With. 

Picfures\ 


Grace 

a. 

Wieder-\ 


MOLLY  miD  THE 


.  (ic^y 


w&u/ 

University  of  California  •  Berkeley 


Wiieder- 


MOLLY  mm  THE 
VNWISEMffl mRCffl) 


MOLLIE  AND 

THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 


HOLIDAY     EDITIONS 

of 
JUVENILE    CLASSICS 

THE  PRINCESS  AND  THE 
GOBLIN 

By  George  Macdonald 

Twelve  full-page  illustrations  in  color,  and  the  original 

wood  engravings.     Decorated  chaffer-headings  and 

lining-papers.      Ornamental  cloth,  $1.50. 

THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE 

By  George  Macdonald 

Twelve  full  -page  illustrations  in  coltr,  and  decorated 
chapter-headings  and  lining-papers. 
Ornamental  cloth, 


AT  THE  BACK  OF  THE 
NORTH  WIND 

By  George  Macdonald 

Twelve  full  page  illustrations  in  color.      Decorated 

chapter-headings  and  lining-papers. 

Cloth,  ornamental,  jf/.j'O. 

A  DOG  OF  FLANDERS 

By  "Ouida" 

Illustrated  with  full-page  color  plates,  and  decorated 

chapter-headings  and  lining-papers. 

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J.   B.   LIPPINCOTT   COMPANY 

Publishers  Philadelphia 


"I'VE  BEEN  TRYING  TO  FIND  OUT  HOW  TO  TIE  A  SINKER  TO  THIS  SOUP  " 

Page  U7 


MOLLIE  AND  THE 

UNWISEMAN 
ABROAD 

BY 

JOHN  KENDRICK  BANGS 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS  IN  COLOR  ET 

GRACE  G.  WIEDERSEIM 


PHILADELPHIA     £5?     LONDON 
J.    B.   LIPPINCOTT    COMPANY 

1910 


COPYRIGHT  1910 
BY  J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 


Published  September,  1910. 


Printed  by  J.  B.  Lippincott  Company 
The  Washington  Square  Press,  Philadelphia,  U.  S.  A. 


TO 
MY  FRIENDS  THE  CHILDREN 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

FOREWORD 11 

Introducing  Two  Heroes  and  a  Heroine. 

I.    MOLLIE,  WHISTLEBINKIE,  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN 13 

II.    THE  START 31 

III.  AT  SEA 48 

IV.  ENGLAND 64 

V.     A  CALL  ON  THE  KING 81 

VI.    THEY  GET  SOME  FOG  AND  Go  SHOPPING 98 

VII.    THE  UNWISEMAN  VISITS  THE  BRITISH  MUSEUM 114 

VIII.    THE  UNWISEMAN'S  FRENCH 130 

IX.    IN  PARIS 147 

X.     THE  ALPS  AT  LAST 163 

XI.    THE  UNWISEMAN  PLANS  A  CHAMOIS  COMPANY 178 

XII.    VENICE 194 

XIII.  GENOA,  GIBRALTAR,  AND  COLUMBUS 211 

XIV.  AT  THE  CUSTOM  HOUSE 228 

XV.    HOME,  SWEET  HOME 245 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

"I've  Been  Trying  to  Find  Out  How  to  Tie  a  Sinker  to  this 
Soup  " Frontispiece 

"Take  Care  of   Yourself,    Fizzledinkie,    and   don't  Blow  too 
much  through  the  Top  of  Your  Hat " 29 

Molly  Makes  Her  Courtesy  to  Mr.  King 88 

"These  are  the  Kind  His  Majesty  Prefers,"  said  the  girl 104 

"Have  You  Seen  the  Ormolu  Clock  of  Your   Sister's  Music 
Teacher? "  154 

"  Out  the  Way  There  ! "  cried  the  Unwiseman 168 

The  Chamois  Evidently  Liked  this  Verse  for  its  Eyes  Twinkled  182 

They  all  Boarded  a  Gondola 199 

The  Unwiseman  Looked  the  Official  Coldly  in  the  Eye 229 

"I'm  Never  Going  to  Leave  You  Again,  Boldy,"  he  was  saying  246 


FOREWORD 

INTRODUCING  TWO  HEROES  AND  A  HEROINE 

I. 

There  were  three  little  folks,  and  one  was  fair — 

Oh  a  rare  little  maid  was  she. 
Her  eyes  were  as  soft  as  the  summer  air, 

And  blue  as  the  summer  sea. 
Her  locks  held  the  glint  of  the  golden  sun; 

And  her  smile  shed  the  sweets  of  May; 
Her  cheek  was  of  cream  and  roses  spun, 

And  dimpled  the  livelong  day. 

II. 

The  second,  well  he  was  a  rubber-doll, 

Who  talked  through  a  whistling  hat. 
His  speech  ran  over  with  folderol, 

But  his  jokes  they  were  never  flat. 
He  squeaked  and  creaked  with  his  heart  care-free 

Such  things  as  this  tale  will  tell, 
But  whether  asleep  or  at  work  was  he 

The  little  maid  loved  him  well. 

III. 

The  third  was  a  man — O  a  very  oueer  man! 

But  a  funny  old  chap  was  he. 
From  back  in  the  time  when  the  world  began 

His  like  you  never  did  see. 


FOREWORD 

The  things  he'd  "know,"  they  were  seldom  so, 
His  views  they  were  odd  and  strange, 

And  his  heart  was  filled  with  the  genial  glow 
Of  love  for  his  kitchen  range. 

IV. 

Now  the  three  set  forth  on  a  wondrous  trip 

To  visit  the  lands  afar; 
And  what  befel  on  the  shore  and  ship, 

As  she  sailed  across  the  bar, 
These  tales  will  make  as  plain  as  the  day 

To  those  who  will  go  with  me 
And  follow  along  in  the  prank  and  play 

Of  these,  my  travellers  three. 


MOLLIE  AND 

THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

I. 

MOLLIE,    WHISTLEBINKIE,    AND    THE   UNWISEMAN 

MOLLIE  was  very  much  excited,  and  for  an 
excellent  reason.  Her  Papa  had  at  last  decided 
that  it  was  about  time  that  she  and  her  Rubber- 
Doll,  Whistlebinkie,  saw  something  of  this  great 
big  beautiful  world,  and  had  announced  that  in 
a  few  weeks  they  would  all  pack  their  trunks  and 
set  sail  for  Europe.  Mollie  had  always  wanted 
to  see  Europe,  where  she  had  been  told  Kings 
and  Queens  still  wore  lovely  golden  crowns  in- 
stead of  hats,  like  the  fairies  in  her  story-book, 
and  the  people  spoke  all  sorts  of  funny  lan- 
guages, like  French,  and  Spanish,  and  real  live 
Greek.  As  for  Whistlebinkie,  he  did  not  care 
much  where  he  went  as  long  as  he  was  with 
Mollie,  of  whom  like  the  rest  of  the  family  he 
was  very  fond. 

13 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

"But,"  said  he,  when  he  was  told  of  the  com- 
ing voyage,  "how  about  Mr.  Me?" 

Now  Mr.  Me  was  a  funny  old  gentleman  who 
lived  in  a  little  red  house  not  far  away  from 
Mollie's  home  in  the  country.  He  claimed  that 
his  last  name  was  Me,  but  Mollie  had  always 
called  him  the  Unwiseman  because  there  was  so 
much  he  did  not  know,  and  so  little  that  he  wras 
willing  to  learn.  The  little  girl  loved  him  none 
the  less  for  he  was  a  very  good  natured  old  fellow, 
and  had  for  a  long  time  been  a  play-mate  of  the 
two  inseparable  companions,  Mollie  and  Whis- 
tlebinkie.  The  latter  by  the  way  was  called 
Whistlebinkie  because  whenever  he  became 
excited  he  blew  his  words  through  the  small 
whistle  in  the  top  of  his  hat,  instead  of  speaking 
them  gently  with  his  mouth,  as  you  and  I  would 
do. 

"Why,  we'll  have  to  invite  him  to  go  along, 
too,  if  he  can  afford  it,"  said  Mollie.  "Perhaps 
we'd  better  run  down  to  his  house  now,  and  tell 
him  all  about  it." 

"  Guess-s weed-better,"  Whistlebinkie  agreed 
through  the  top  of  his  beaver,  as  usual. 

And  so  the  little  couple  set  off  down  the  hill, 

14 


MOLLIE,  WHISTLEBINKIE,  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN 

and  were  fortunate  enough  to  find  the  old  gen- 
tleman at  home. 

"Break  it  to  him  gently,"  whispered  Whistle- 
binkie. 

"I  will,"  answered  Mollie,  under  her  breath, 
and  then  entering  the  Unwiseman's  house  she 
greeted  him  cheerily.  "  Good  Morning,  Mr.  Me," 
she  said. 

"Is  it?"  asked  the  old  gentleman,  looking  up 
from  his  newspaper  which  he  was  reading  upside- 
down.  "  I  haven't  tasted  it  yet.  I  never  judge 
a  day  till  it's  been  cooked." 

"Tasted  it?"  laughed  Mollie.  "Can't  you 
tell  whether  a  morning  is  good  or  not  without 
tasting  it?" 

"O  I  suppose  you  can  if  you  want  to,"  replied 
the  Unwiseman.  "If  you  make  up  your  mind 
to  believe  everything  you  see,  why  you  can  be- 
lieve a  morning's  good  just  by  looking  at  it,  but 
I  prefer  to  taste  mine  before  I  commit  myself  as 
to  whether  they  are  good  or  bad." 

"  Perfly-  'bsoyd !"  chortled  Whistlebinkie 
through  the  top  of  his  hat. 

"What's  that?"  cried  Mollie. 

"Still  talks  through  his  hat,  doesn't  he?"  said 

15 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

the  Unwiseman.     "  Must  think  it's  one  of  these 
follytones." 

* '  Never-erd-o-sutcha-thing !' '  whistled  Whis- 
tlebinkie.  "  What's  a  follytone  ?  " 

'You  are  a  niggeramus,"  jeered  the  Unwise- 
man. "Ho!  Never  heard  of  a  follytone.  Ain't 
he  silly,  Mollie?" 

"I  don't  think  I  ever  heard  of  one  either,  Mr. 
Unwiseman,"  said  Mollie. 

"Well- well- well,"  ejaculated  the  Unwiseman 
in  great  surprise.  "Why  a  follytone  is  one  of 
those  little  boxes  you  have  in  the  house  with  a 
number  like  7-2-3- J-Hokoben  that  you  talk 
business  into  to  some  feller  off  in  Chicago  or  up 
in  Boston.  You  just  pour  your  words  into  the 
box  and  they  fall  across  a  wire  and  go  scooting 
along  like  lightning  to  this  person  you're  talkin' 
to." 

"Oh,"  laughed  Mollie.  "You  mean  a  tele- 
phone." 

"I  call  'em  follytones,"  said  the  Unwiseman 
coolly.  'Your  voice  sounds  so  foolish  over  'em. 
I  never  tried  'em  but  once" — here  the  old  man 
began  to  chuckle.  "Somebody  told  me  Phila- 
delphia wanted  me,  and  of  course  I  knew  right 

16 


MOLLIE,  WHISTLEBINKIE,  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN 

away  they  were  putting  up  a  joke  on  me  be- 
cause I  ain't  never  met  Philadelphia  and  Phila- 
delphia ain't  never  met  me,  so  I  just  got  a  little 
squirt  gun  and  filled  it  up  with  water  and 
squirted  it  into  the  box.  I  guess  whoever  was 
trying  to  make  me  believe  he  was  Philadelphia 
got  a  good  soaking  that  time." 

"I  guess-smaybe-he-didn't,"  whistled  Whis- 
tlebinkie. 

"Well  he  didn't  get  me  anyhow,"  snapped 
the  Unwiseman.  "You  don't  catch  me  send- 
ing my  voice  to  Philadelphia  when  the  chances 
are  I  may  need  it  any  minute  around  here  to 
frighten  burgulars  away  with.  The  idea  of  a 
man's  being  so  foolish  as  to  send  his  voice  way 
out  to  Chicago  on  a  wire  with  nobody  to  look 
after  it,  stumps  me.  But  that  ain't  what  we 
were  talking  about." 

"No,"  said  Mollie  gravely.  "We  were  talk- 
ing about  tasting  days.  You  said  you  cooked 
them,  I  believe." 

"That's  what  I  said,"  said  the  Unwiseman. 

"I  never  knew  anybody  else  to  do  it,"  said 
Mollie.  "What  do  you  do  it  for?  " 

"Because  I  find  raw  days   very  uncomfort- 

</  2  17 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

able,"    explained    the    Unwiseman.     "I  prefer 
fried-days." 

"Everyday'll  be  Friday  by  and  by,"  carolled 
Whistlebinkie. 

"It  will  with  me,"  said  the  old  man.  "I  was 
born  on  a  Friday,  I  was  never  married  on  a  Fri- 
day, and  I  dyed  on  Friday." 

'You  never  died,  did  you? "  asked  Mollie. 

"Of  course  I  did,"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "I 
used  to  have  perfectly  red  hair  and  I  dyed  it  gray 
so  that  young  people  like  old  Squeaky-hat  here 
would  have  more  respect  for  me." 

"  Do-choo-call-me-squeekyat !"  cried  Whis- 
tlebinkie angrily. 

"All  right,  Yawpy-tile,  I  won't— only " 

the  Unwiseman  began. 

"Nor-y a wpy- tile-neither,"  whistled  Whistle- 
binkie, beginning  to  cry. 

"Here,  here!"  cried  the  Unwiseman.  "Stop 
your  crying.  Just  because  you're  made  of  rub- 
ber and  are  waterproof  ain't  any  reason  for 
throwing  tears  on  my  floor.  I  won't  have  it. 
What  do  you  want  me  to  call  you,  Wheezikid  ?  " 

"No,"  sobbed  Whistlebinkie.  "My  name's 
— Whizzlebinkie." 

18 


MOLLIE,  WHISTLEBINKIE,  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN 

"Very  well  then,"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "Let 
it  be  Fizzledinkie—  —only  you  must  show  proper 
respect  for  my  gray  hairs.  If  you  don't  I'll 
have  had  all  my  trouble  dyeing  for  nothing." 

Whistlebinkie  was  about  to  retort,  but  Mollie 
perceiving  only  trouble  between  her  two  little 
friends  if  they  went  on  at  this  rate  tried  to  change 
the  subject  by  going  back  to  the  original  point  of 
discussion.  "How  do  you  taste  a  day  to  see  if 
it's  all  right  ?  "  she  asked. 

"I  stick  my  tongue  out  the  window,"  said  the 
Unwiseman,  "and  it's  a  good  thing  to  do.  I  re- 
member once  down  at  the  sea-shore  a  young 
lady  asked  me  if  I  didn't  think  it  was  just  a  sweet 
day,  and  I  stuck  my  tongu.e  out  of  the  window 
and  it  was  just  as  salt  as  it  could  be.  Tasted 
like  a  pickle.  'No,  ma'am,  it  ain't,'  says  I. 
'Quite  the  opposite,  it's  quite  briny,'  says  I.  If 
I'd  said  it  was  sweet  she'd  have  thought  I  was  as 
much  of  a  niggeramus  as  old  Fizz " 

"Do  you  always  read  your  newspaper  upside- 
down  ?  "  Mollie  put  in  hastily  to  keep  the  Un- 
wiseman from  again  hurting  Whistlebinkie's 
feelings. 

*' Always,"  he  replied.     "I  find  it  saves  me  a 

19 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

lot  of  money.  You  see  the  paper  lasts  a  great 
deal  longer  when  you  read  it  upside-down  than 
when  you  read  it  upside-up.  Reading  it  upside- 
up  you  can  go  through  a  newspaper  in  about  a 
week,  but  when  you  read  it  upside-down  it  lasts 
pretty  nearly  two  months.  I've  been  at  work  on 
that  copy  of  the  Gazette  six  weeks  now  and  I've 
only  got  as  far  as  the  third  column  of  the  second 
page  from  the  end.  I  don't  suppose  I'll  reach 
the  news  on  the  first  column  of  page  one  much 
before  three  weeks  from  next  Tuesday.  I  think 
it's  very  wasteful  to  buy  a  fresh  paper  every  day 
when  by  reading  it  upside-down  backwards  you 
can  make  the  old  one  last  two  months." 

"Do-bleeve-youkn-reada-tall,"  growled  Whis- 
tlebinkie. 

"What's  that?"  cried  the  old  man. 

"  I-don't-be-lieve-you-can-read-at-all !"  said 
Whistlebinkie. 

"O  as  for  that,"  laughed  the  old  man,  "I 
never  said  I  could.  I  don't  take  a  newspaper 
to  read  anyhow.  What's  the  use?  Fill  your 
head  up  with  a  lot  of  stuff  it's  a  trouble  to  forget." 

"What  do  you  take  it  for?"  asked  Mollie, 
amazed  at  this  confession. 

20 


MOLLIE,  WHISTLEBINKIE,  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN 

"I'm  collecting  commas  and  Qs,"  said  the 
Unwiseman.  "I  always  was  fond  of  pollywogs 
and  pug-dogs,  and  the  commas  are  the  living 
image  of  pollywogs,  and  the  letter  Q  always  re- 
minds me  of  a  good  natured  pug-dog  sitting 
down  with  his  back  turned  toward  me.  I've 
made  a  tally  sheet  of  this  copy  of  the  Gazette  and 
so  far  I've  found  nine  thousand  and  fifty-three 
commas,  and  thirty-nine  pugs." 

Whistlebinkie  forgot  his  wrath  in  an  explosion 
of  mirth  at  this  reply.  He  fairly  rolled  on  the 
floor  with  laughter. 

"Don't  be  foolish,  Fizzledinkie,"  said  the 
Unwiseman  severely.  "A  good  Q  is  just  as 
good  as  a  pug-dog.  He's  just  as  fat,  has  a  fine 
curly  tail  and  he  doesn't  bite  or  keep  you  awake 
nights  by  barking  at  the  moon  or  make  a  nuis- 
ance of  himself  whining  for  chicken-bones  while 
you  are  eating  dinner;  and  as  far  as  the  commas 
are  concerned  they're  better  even  than  polly- 
wogs, because  they  don't  wiggle  around  so  much 
or  turn  into  bull-frogs  and  splash  water  all  over 
the  place." 

"There-raintenny-fleeson-cues-sneether,"whis- 
tled  Whistlebinkie. 

21 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

"I  didn't  catch  that,"  said  the  Unwiseman. 
"Talk  through  your  nose  just  once  and  maybe 
I'll  be  able  to  guess  what  you're  trying  to  say." 

"He  says  there  are  not  any  fleas  on  Qs,"  said 
Mollie  with  a  reproving  glance  at  Whistlebinkie. 

"As  to  that  I  can't  say,"  said  the  Unwiseman. 
"I  never  saw  any — but  anyhow  I  don't  object 
to  fleas  on  pug-dogs." 

"You  don't?"  cried  Mollie.  "Why  they're 
horrid,  Mr.  Unwiseman.  They  bite  you  all  up." 

"Perfly-awful,"  whistled  Whistlebinkie. 

"You're  wrong  about  that,"  said  the  Unwise- 
man. "They  don't  bite  you  at  all  while  they're 
on  the  pug-dog.  It's  only  when  they  get  on  you 
that  they  bite  you.  That's  why  I  say  I  don't 
mind  'em  on  the  pug-dogs.  As  long  as  they  stay 
there  they  don't  hurt  me." 

Here  the  Unwiseman  rose  from  his  chair  and 
walking  across  the  room  opened  a  cupboard  and 
taking  out  an  old  clay  pipe  laid  it  on  one  of  the 
andirons  where  a  log  was  smouldering  in  the 
fire-place. 

"  I  always  feel  happier  when  I'm  smoking  my 
pipe,"  he  said  resuming  his  seat  and  smiling 
pleasantly  at  Mollie. 


MOLLIE,  WHISTLEBINKIE,  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN 

"Put  it  in  the  fire-place  to  warm  it?"asked 
Whistlebinkie. 

"Of  course  not,  Stupid,"  replied  the  Unwise- 
man  scornfully.  "I  put  it  in  the  fire-place  to 
smoke  it.  That's  the  cheapest  and  healthiest 
way  to  smoke  a  pipe.  I  don't  have  to  buy  any 
tobacco  to  keep  it  filled,  and  as  long  as  I  leave  it 
over  there  on  the  andiron  I  don't  get  any  of  the 
smoke  up  my  nose  or  down  my  throat.  I  tried 
it  the  other  way  once  and  there  wasn't  any  fun 
in  it  that  I  could  see.  The  smoke  got  in  all  my 
flues  and  I  didn't  stop  sneezing  for  a  week.  It 
was  dreadful,  and  once  or  twice  I  got  scared  and 
sent  for  the  fire-engines  to  put  me  out.  I  was  so 
full  of  smoke  it  seemed  to  me  I  must  be  on  fire. 
It  wasn't  so  bad  the  first  time  because  the  fire- 
men just  laughed  and  went  away,  but  the  second 
time  they  came  they  got  mad  at  what  they  called 
a  second  false  alarm  and  turned  the  hose  on  me. 
I  tell  you  I  was  very  much  put  out  when  they  did 
that,  and  since  that  time  I've  given  up  smoking 
that  way.  I  never  wanted  to  be  a  chimney  any- 
how. What's  the  use?  If  you're  going  to  be 
anything  of  that  sort  it's  a  great  deal  better  to  be 
an  oven  so  that  some  kind  cook-lady  will  keep 

23 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

filling  you  up  with  hot-biscuits,  and  sponge-cake, 
and  roast  turkey." 

"I  should  think  so,"  said  Mollie.     "That's 
one  of  the  nice  things  about  being  a  little  girl— 
you're  not  expected  to  smoke." 

"Well  I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  the 
Unwiseman.  "Far  as  I  can  remember  I  never 
was  a  little  girl  so  I  don't  know  what  was  ex- 
pected of  me  as  such,  but  as  far  as  I'm  concerned 
I'm  perfectly  willing  to  let  the  pipe  get  smoked 
in  the  fire-place,  and  keep  my  mouth  for  expres- 
sing thoughts  and  eating  bananas  and  eclairs 
with,  and  my  throat  for  giving  three  cheers  on 
the  Fourth  of  July,  and  swallowing  apple  pie. 
That's  what  they  were  made  for  and  hereafter 
that's  what  I'm  going  to  use  'em  for.  Where's 
Miss  Flaxilocks  ?" 

Miss  Flaxilocks  was  Mollie' s  little  friend  and 
almost  constant  companion,  the  French  doll  with 
the  deepest  of  blue  eyes  and  the  richest  of  golden 
hair  from  which  she  got  her  name. 

"She  couldn't  come  to-day,"  explained  Mollie. 

"Stoo-wexited,"  whistled  Whistlebinkie. 

"What's  that?"   asked  the  Unwiseman. 
"Sounds  like  a  clogged-up  radiator." 

24 


MOLLIE,  WHISTLEBINKIE,  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN 

"He  means  to  say  that  she  is  too  excited  to 
come,"  said  Mollie.  "The  fact  is,  Mr.  Unwise- 
man,  we're  all  going  abroad— 

"Abroad?"  demanded  the  Unwiseman. 
"Where's  that?" 

"Hoh!"  jeered  Whistlebinkie.  "Doesn't 
know  where  abroad  is!" 

"How  should  I  know  where  abroad  is?"  re- 
torted the  Unwiseman.  "I  never  had  any.  What 
is  it  anyhow?  A  new  kind  of  pie?" 

"No,"  laughed  Mollie.  "Abroad  is  Europe, 
and  England  and— 

"And  Swizz-izzer-land,"  put  in  Whistlebinkie. 

"  Swizz-what  ?"  cried  the  Unwiseman. 

"Switzerland,"  said  Mollie.  "It's  Switzer- 
land, Whistlebinkie." 

"Thass-watised,  Swizz-izzerland,"  said  Whis- 
tlebinkie. 

"What's  the  good  of  them?"  asked  the  Un- 
wiseman. 

"O  they're  nice  places  to  visit,"  said  Mollie. 

"Do  you  walk  there?"  asked  the  Unwiseman. 

"No — of  course  not,"  said  Mollie  with  a 
smile.  'They're  thousands  of  miles  away, 
across  the  ocean. '* 

25 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  TJNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

"Across  the  ocean?"  ejaculated  the  Unwise- 
man.  "Mercy!  Ain't  the  ocean  that  wet  place 
down  around  New  Jersey  somewhere  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  Mollie.     "The  Atlantic  Ocean." 

"Humph!"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "How  you 
going  to  get  across  ?  There  ain't  any  bridges 
over  it,  are  there  ?" 

"No  indeed,"  said  Mollie. 

"Nor  no  trolleys  ?"  demanded  the  Unwiseman. 

Mollie's  reply  was  a  loud  laugh,  and  Whistle- 
binkie  whistled  with  glee. 

"Going  in  a  balloon,  I  suppose,"  sneered  the 
Unwiseman.  "That  is  all  of  you  but  old  Sizzer- 
inktum  here.  I  suppose  he's  going  to  try  and 
jump  across.  Smart  feller,  old  Sizzerinktum." 

"I  ain't  neither!"  retorted  Whistlebinkie. 

"Ain't  neither  what — smart?"  said  the  Un- 
wiseman. 

"No — ain't  goin'  to  jump,"  said  Whistle- 
binkie. 

"Good  thing  too,"  observed  the  Unwiseman 
approvingly.  "If  you  did  you'd  bounce  so  high 
when  you  landed  that  /  don't  believe  you'd  ever 
come  down." 

"We're  going  in  a  boat,"  said  Mollie.     "Not 

26 


MOLLIE,  WHISTLEBINKIE,  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN 

a  row  boat  nor  a  sail  boat,"  she  hastened  to  ex- 
plain, "but  a  great  big  ocean  steamer,  large 
enough  to  carry  over  a  thousand  people,  and 
fast  enough  to  cross  in  six  days." 

"Silly  sort  of  business,"  said  the  Unwiseman. 
"What's  the  good  of  going  to  Europe  and  Swaz- 
zoozalum — or  whatever  the  place  is — when  you 
haven't  seen  Albany  or  Troy,  or  New  Rochelle 
and  Yonkers,  or  Michigan  and  Patterson?" 

"O  well,  said  Mollie,  "Papa's  tired  and  he's 
going  to  take  a  vacation  and  we're  all  going  along 
to  help  him  rest,  and  Flaxilocks  is  so  excited 
about  going  back  to  Paris  where  she  was  born 
that  I  have  had  to  keep  her  in  her  crib  all  the 
time  to  keep  her  from  getting  nervous  procras- 
tination." 

"I  see,"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "But  I  don't 
see  why  if  people  are  tired  they  don't  stay  home 
and  go  to  bed.  That's  the  way  to  rest.  Just 
lie  in  bed  a  couple  of  days  without  moving." 

"Yes,"  said  Mollie.  "But  Papa  needs  the 
salt  air  to  brace  him  up." 

"What  of  it?"  demanded  the  Unwiseman. 
"Can't  you  get  salt  air  without  going  across  the 
ocean  ?  Seems  to  me  if  you  just  fill  up  a  pillow 

27 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

with  salt  and  sleep  on  that,  the  way  you  do  on 
one  of  those  pine-needle  pillows  from  the  Dad- 
irondacks,  you'd  get  all  the  salt  air  you  wanted, 
or  build  a  salt  cellar  under  your  house  and  run 
pipes  from  it  up  to  your  bedroom  to  carry  the  air 
through." 

"It  wouldn't  be  the  same,  at  all,"  said  Mollie. 
"Besides  we're  going  to  see  the  Alps." 

"Oh— that's  different.  Of  course  if  you're 
going  to  see  the  Alps  that's  very  different, "said 
the  Unwiseman.  "I  wouldn't  mind  seeing  an 
Alp  or  two  myself.  I  always  was  interested  in 
animals.  I've  often  wondered  why  they  never 
had  any  Alps  at  the  Zoo." 

"I  guess  they're  too  big  to  bring  over,"  said 
Mollie  gravely. 

"Maybe  so,  but  even  then  if  they  catch  'em 
young  I  don't  see,"  began  the  Unwiseman. 

Whistlebinkie's  behavior  at  this  point  was 
such  that  Mollie,  fearing  a  renewal  of  the  usual 
quarrel  between  her  friends  ran  hastily  on  to  the 
object  of  their  call  and  told  the  Unwiseman  that 
they  had  come  to  bid  him  good-bye. 

"I  wish  you  were  going  with  us,"  she  said  as 
she  shook  the  old  gentleman's  hand. 


"TAKE  CARE  OF  YOURSELF,  FIZZLEDINKIE,  AND  DON'T  BLOW  TOO  MUCH 
THROUGH  THE  TOP  OF  YOUR  HAT" 


MOLLIE,  WHISTLEBINKIE,  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN 

"Thank  you  very  much,"  he  replied.  "I 
suppose  it  would  be  nice,  but  I  have  too  many 
other  things  to  attend  to  and  I  don't  see  how  I 
could  spare  the  time.  In  the  first  place  I've  got 
all  those  commas  and  Qs  to  look  after,  and  then 
if  I  went  away  there' d  be  nobody  around  to  see 
that  my  pipe  was  smoked  every  day,  or  to  finish 
up  my  newspaper.  Likewise  also  too  in  addition 
the  burgulars  might  get  into  my  house  some 
night  while  I  was  away  and  take  the  wrong 
things  because  I  haven't  been  able  yet  to  let  'em 
know  just  what  I'm  willing  to  have  'em  run  off 
with,  so  you  see  how  badly  things  would  get 
mixed  if  I  went  away." 

"I  suppose  they  would,"  sighed  Mollie. 

"There'd  be  nobody  here  to  exercise  my  um- 
brella on  wet  days,  either,"  continued  the  old 
gentleman,  "or  to  see  that  the  roof  leaked  just 
right,  or  to  cook  my  meals  and  eat  'em.  No — I 
don't  just  see  how  I  could  manage  it."  And  so 
the  old  gentleman  bade  his  visitors  good-bye. 

"Take  care  of  yourself,  Fizzledinkie,"  he 
observed  to  Whistlebinkie,  "and  don't  blow  too 
much  through  the  top  of  your  hat.  I've  heard 
of  boats  being  upset  by  sudden  squalls,  and  you 

29 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

might  get  the  whole  party  in  trouble  by  the  care- 
less use  of  that  hat  of  yours." 

Mollie  and  her  companion  with  many  waves 
of  their  hands  back  at  the  Unwisemaii  made  off 
up  the  road  homeward.  The  old  gentleman 
gazed  after  them  thoughtfully  for  awhile,  and 
then  returned  to  his  work  on  his  newspaper. 

"Queer  people — some  of  'em,"  he  muttered 
as  he  cut  out  his  ninety-ninth  Q  and  noted  the 
ten-thousand-six-hundred-and-thirty-eighth  com- 
ma on  his  pollywog  tally  sheet.  "  Mighty  queer. 
With  a  country  of  their  own  right  outside  their 
front  door  so  big  that  they  couldn't  walk  around 
it  in  less  than  forty-eight  hours,  they've  got  to  go 
abroad  just  to  see  an  old  Alp  cavorting  around 
in  Whizzizalum  or  whatever  else  that  place 
Whistlebinkie  was  trying  to  talk  about  is  named. 
I'd  like  to  see  an  Alp  myself,  but  after  all  as  long 
as  there's  plenty  of  elephants  and  rhinoceroses 
up  at  the  Zoo  what's  the  good  of  chasing  around 
after  other  queer  looking  beasts  getting  your  feet 
wet  on  the  ocean,  and  having  your  air  served  up 
with  salt  in  it  ?  " 

And  as  there  was  nobody  about  to  enlighten 
the  old  gentleman  on  these  points  he  went  to  bed 
that  night  with  his  question  unanswered. 

30 


II. 

THE    START 

OTHER  good  byes  had  been  said;  the  huge 
ocean  steamer  had  drawn  out  of  her  pier  and, 
with  Mollie  and  Whistlebinkie  on  board,  to- 
gether with  Flaxilocks  and  the  rest  of  the  family, 
made  her  way  down  the  bay,  through  the  Nar- 
rows, past  Sandy  Hook  and  out  to  sea.  The 
long  low  lying  shores  of  New  Jersey,  with  their 
white  sands  and  endless  lines  of  villas  and 
summer  hotels  had  gradually  sunk  below  the 
horizon  and  the  little  maid  was  for  the  first 
time  in  her  life  out  of  sight  of  land. 
,  "Isn't  it  glorious!"  cried  Mollie,  as  she 
breathed  in  the  crisp  fresh  air,  and  tasted  just 
a  tiny  bit  of  the  salt  spray  of  the  ocean  on  her  lip. 

"I  guesso,"  whistled  Whistlebinkie,  with  a 
little  shiver.  "Think-ide-like-it-better-'fwe-had- 
alittle-land-in-sight. " 

"O  no,  Whistlebinkie,"  returned  Mollie,  "it's 
a  great  deal  safer  this  way.  There  are  rocks 
near  the  shore  but  outside  here  the  water  is  ever 
so  deep — more'n  six  feet  I  guess.  I'd  be  per- 

31 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

fectly  happy  if  the  Unwiseman  was  only  with  us." 
Just  then  up  through  one  of  the  big  yawning 
ventilators,  that  look  so  like  sea-serpents  with 
their  big  flaming  mouths  stretched  wide  open 
as  if  to  swallow  the  passengers  on  deck,  came  a 
cracked  little  voice  singing  the  following  song 
to  a  tune  that  seemed  to  be  made  up  as  it  went 

along : 

"Yo-ho! 

Yo-ho— 

O  a  sailor's  life  for  me! 
I  love  to  nail 
The  blithering  gale, 
As  I  sail  the  bounding  sea. 
For  I'm  a  glorious  stowaway, 
I've  thrown  my  rake  and  hoe  away, 
On  the  briny  deep  to  go  away, 
Yeave-ho— Yeave-ho— Yo-hee ! " 

"Where  have  I  heard  that  voice  before!" 
cried  Mollie  clutching  Whistlebinkie  by  the 
hand  so  hard  that  he  squeaked. 

"ItVsizz!"  whistled  Whistlebinkie  excitedly. 

"It's  what?"  cried  Mollie. 

"It's — his!"  repeated  Whistlebinkie  more  cor- 
rectlv-  - 

|i 

"Whose — the  Unwiseman's ? "  Mollie  whis- 
pered with  delight. 


THE  START 

"  Thass-swat-I-think, "  said  Whistlebinkie. 
And  then  the  song  began  again  drawing  nearer 
each  moment. 

"Yeave-ho, 
Yo-ho, 

0  I  love  the  life  so  brave. 

I  love  to  swish 
Like  the  porpoise  fish 
Over  the  foamy  wave. 
So  let  the  salt  wind  blow-away, 
All  care  and  trouble  throw-away, 
And  lead  the  life  of  a  Stowaway 
Yeave-ho— Yeave-ho— Yo-hee ! " 

"It  is  he  as  sure  as  you're  born,  Whistle- 
binkie!" cried  Mollie  in  an  ecstacy  of  delight. 
"I  wonder  how  he  came  to  come." 

"I  'dno,"  said  Whistlebinkie.  "I  guess  he's 
just  went  and  gone." 

As  Whistlebinkie  spoke  sure  enough,  the 
tin wiseman  himself  clambered  out  of  the  venti- 
lator and  leaped  lightly  on  the  deck  alongside 
of  them  still  singing: 

"Yeave-ho, 
Yo-ho, 

1  love  the  At-lan-tic. 

The  water's  wet 
And  you  can  bet 
The  motion  makes  me  sick. 
3  33 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

But  let  the  wavelets  flow  away 
You  cannot  drive  the  glow  away 
From  the  heart  of  the  happy  Stowaway. 
Yeave-ho — Yeave-ho — Yo-hee ! " 

Dear  me,  what  a  strange  looking  figure  he 
was  as  he  jumped  down  and  greeted  Mollie  and 
Whistlebinkie !  In  place  of  his  old  beaver  hat 
he  wore  a  broad  and  shiny  tarpaulin.  His 
trousers  which  were  of  white  duck  stiffly  starched 
were  neatly  creased  down  the  sides,  ironed  as 
flat  as  they  could  be  got,  nearly  two  feet  wide 
and  as  spick  and  span  as  a  snow-flake.  On  his 
feet  he  wore  a  huge  pair  of  goloshes,  and  thrown 
jauntily  around  his  left  shoulder  and  thence 
down  over  his  right  arm  to  his  waist  was  what 
appeared  to  be  a  great  round  life  preserver, 
filled  with  air,  and  heavy  enough  to  support 
ten  persons  of  his  size. 

"Shiver  my  timbers  if  it  ain't  Mollie!"  he 
roared  as  he  caught  sight  of  her.  "And  Whistle- 
binkie too — Ahoy  there,  Fizzledinkie.  What's 
the  good  word?" 

"Where  on  earth  did  you  come  from?"  asked 
Mollie  overjoyed. 

"I  weighed  anchor  in  the  home  port  at  seven 

34 


THE  START 

bells  last  night;  set  me  course  nor-E  by  sou- 
sou-west,  made  for  the  deep  channel  running 
past  the  red,  white  and  blue  buoy  on  the  star- 
board tack,  reefed  my  galyards  in  the  teeth  o' 
the  blithering  gale  and  sneaked  aboard  while 
Captain  Binks  of  the  good  ship  Nancy  B.  was 
trollin'  for  oysters  off  the  fishin'  banks  after 
windin'  up  the  Port  watch, "  replied  the  Unwise- 
man.  "It's  a  great  life,  ain't  it,"  he  added 
gazing  admiringly  about  him  at  the  wonderful 
ship  and  then  over  the  rail  at  the  still  more 
wonderful  ocean. 

"But  how  did  you  come  to  come?"  asked 
Mollie. 

"Well — ye  see  after  you'd  said  goodbye  to  me 
the  other  day,  I  .was  sort  of  upset  and  for  the 
first  time  in  my  life  I  got  my  newspaper  right 
side  up  and  began  to  read  it  that  way,"  the  old 
gentleman  explained.  "And  I  fell  on  a  story 
of  the  briny  deep  in  which  a  young  gentleman 
named  Billy  The  Rover  Bold  sailed  from  the 
Spanish  main  to  Kennebunkport  in  a  dory, 
capturing  seventeen  brigs,  fourteen  galleons  and 
a  pirate  band  on  the  way.  It  didn't  say  fourteen 
galleons  of  what,  but  thinkin'  it  might  be  soda 

35 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  TJNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

water,  it  made  my  mouth  water  to  think  of  it,  so 
I  decided  to  rent  my  house  and  come  along. 
About  when  do  you  think  we'll  capture  any 
Brigs?" 

'You  rented  your  house?"  asked  Mollie  in 
amazement. 

"Yes — to  a  Burgular, "  said  the  Unwiseman. 
"I  thought  that  was  the  best  way  out  of  it.  If 
the  burgular  has  your  house,  thinks  I,  he  won't 
break  into  it,  spoiling  your  locks,  or  smashing 
your  windows  and  doors.  What  he's  got  like- 
wise moreover  he  won't  steal,  so  the  best  thing 
to  do  is  to  turn  everything  over  to  him  right  in 
the  beginning  and  so  save  your  property.  So  I 
advertised.  Here  it  is,  see?"  And  the  Unwise- 
man produced  the  following  copy  of  his  adver- 
tisement. 

FOR  TO  BE  LET 

ONE  FIRST  CLASS  PREMISSES 

ALL  MODDERN  INCONVENIENCES 

HOT  AND  COAL  GAS 
SIXTEEN  MILES  FROM  POLICE  STATION 

POSESSION  RIGHT  AWAY  OFF 
ONLY  BURGULARS  NEED  APPLY. 

Address,  The  Unwiseman,  At  Home. 

36 


THE  START 

"One  of  'em  called  the  next  night  and  he's 
taken  the  house  for  six  months,"  the  Unwise- 
man  went  on.  "He's  promised  to  keep  the 
house  clean,  to  smoke  my  pipe,  look  after  my 
Qs  and  commas,  eat  my  meals  regularly,  and 
exercise  the  umbrella  on  wet  days.  It  was  a 
very  good  arrangement  all  around.  He  was  a 
very  nice  polite  burgular  and  as  it  happened  had 
a  lot  of  business  he  wanted  to  attend  to  right  in 
our  neighborhood.  He  said  he'd  keep  an  eye  on 
your  house  too,  and  I  told  him  about  how  to  get 
in  the  back  way  where  the  cellar  window  won't 
lock.  He  promised  for  sure  he'd  look  into  it. " 

"Very  kind  of  him  I'm  sure,"  said  Mollie 
dubiously. 

"You'd  have  liked  him  very  much — nicest 
burgular  I  ever  met.  Had  real  taking  ways," 
said  the  Unwiseman. 

"  Howd  -  ulike  -  being  -  outer  -  sighter  -  land  ?  " 
asked  Whistlebinkie. 

"Who,  me?"  asked  the  Unwiseman.  "I 
wouldn't  like  it  at  all.  I  took  precious  good  care 
that  I  shouldn't  be  neither." 

"Nonsense,"  said  Mollie.  "How  can  you 
help  yourself?" 

37 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

"This  way, "  said  the  Unwiseman  with  a  proud 
smile  of  superiority,  taking  a  bottle  from  his 
pocket.  "See  that?"  he  added. 

"  Yes, "  said  Mollie.     "  What  is  it  ?  " 

"It's  land,  of  course,"  replied  the  Unwise- 
man, holding  the  bottle  up  in  the  light.  "Real 
land  off  my  place  at  home.  Just  before  I  left  the 
house  it  occurred  to  me  that  it  would  be  pleas- 
ant to  have  some  along  and  I  took  a  shovel  and 
went  out  and  got  a  bottle  full  of  it.  It  makes 
me  feel  safer  to  have  the  land  in  sight  all  the 
way  over  and  then  it  will  keep  me  from  being 
homesick  when  I'm  chasing  those  Alps  down 
in  Swazoozalum. " 

"  Swizz-izzerland ! "  corrected  Whistlebinkie. 

"Swit-zer-land!"  said  Mollie  for  the  instruc- 
tion of  both.  "  It's  not  Swazoozalum,  or  Swizziz- 
zerland,  but  Switzerland." 

"O  I  see — rhymes  with  Hits-yer-land — when 
the  Alp  he  hits  your  land,  then  you  think  of 
Switzerland — that  it?"  asked  the  Unwiseman. 

"Well  that's  near  enough,"  laughed  Mollie. 
"But  how  does  that  bottle  keep  you  from  being 
homesick?" 

"Why — when  I  begin  to  pine  for  my  native 

38 


THE  START 

land,  all  I've  got  to  do  is  to  open  the  bottle  and 
take  out  a  spoonful  of  it.  'This  is  my  own,  my 
native  land,'  the  Poet  said,  and  when  I  look  at 
this  bottle  so  say  I.  Right  out  of  my  own  yard, 
too,"  said  the  Unwiseman,  hugging  the  bottle 
tightly  to  his  breast.  "It's  queer  isn't  it  how  I 
should  find  out  how  to  travel  so  comfortably 
without  having  to  ask  anybody. " 

"I  guess  you're  a  genius,"  suggested  Whistle- 
binkie. 

"Maybe  I  am,"  agreed  the  Unwiseman,  "but 
anyhow  you  know  I  just  knew  what  to  do  as 
soon  as  I  made  up  my  mind  to  come  along. " 

Mollie  looked  at  him  admiringly. 

"Take  these  goloshes  for  instance.  I'm  the 
only  person  on  board  this  boat  that's  got  gol- 
oshes on,"  continued  the  old  gentleman,  "and 
yet  if  the  boat  went  down,  how  on  earth  could 
they  keep  their  feet  dry?  It's  all  so  simple. 
Same  way  with  this  life  preserver — it's  nothing 
but  an  old  bicycle  tire  I  found  in  your  barn, 
but  just  think  what  it  would  mean  to  me  if  I 
should  fall  overboard  some  day." 

"Smitey— fine!"  whistled  Whistlebinkie. 

"It  is  that.    All  I'll  have  to  do  is  to  sit  inside 

39 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

of  it  and  float  till  they  lower  a  boat  after  me," 
said  the  Unwiseman. 

"What  have  you  done  about  getting  sea- 
sick?" asked  Mollie. 

"Ah — that's  the  thing  that  bothered  me  as 
much  as  anything,"  ejaculated  the  Unwiseman, 
"but  all  of  a  sudden  it  came  to  me  like  a  flash. 
I  was  getting  my  fishing  tackle  ready  for  the 
trip  and  when  I  came  to  the  sinkers,  there  was 
the  idea  as  plain  as  the  nose  on  your  face.  Six 
days  out,  says  I,  means  thirty-seven  meals." 

"Thirty-seven?"  asked  Mollie. 

;'Yes — three  meals  a  day  for  six  days  is — ," 
began  the  Unwiseman. 

"Only  eighteen,"  said  Mollie,  who  for  a  child 
of  her  size  was  very  quick  at  multiplication. 

"So  it  is,"  said  the  Unwiseman,  his  face  grow- 
ing very  red.  "So  it  is.  I  must  have  forgotten 
to  set  down  five  and  carry  three." 

"Looks  that  way,"  said  Whistlebinkie,  with 
a  mirthful  squeak  through  the  top  of  his  hat. 
"What  you  did  was  to  set  down  three  and  carry 


seven. ' 


"That's  it,"  said  the  Unwiseman.     "Three 
and  seven  make  thirty-seven — don't  it?" 


40 


THE  START 

"Looked  at  sideways,"  said  Mollie,  with  a 
chuckle. 

"I  know  I  got  it  somehow,"  observed  the 
Unwiseman,  his  smile  returning.  "So  I  pre- 
pared myself  for  thirty-seven  meals.  I  brought 
a  lead  sinker  along  for  each  one  of  them.  I'm 
going  to  tie  one  sinker  to  each  meal  to  keep  it 
down,  and  of  course  I  won't  be  sea-sick  at  all. 
There  was  only  one  other  way  out  of  it  that  I 
could  think  of;  that  was  to  eat  pound-cake  all 
the  time,  but  I  was  afraid  maybe  they  wouldn't 
have  any  on  board,  so  I  brought  the  sinkers 
instead." 

"It  sounds  like  a  pretty  good  plan,"  said 
Whistlebinkie.  "Where's  your  State-room?" 

"I  haven't  got  one,"  said  the  Unwiseman. 
"I  really  don't  need  it,  because  I  don't  think 
I'll  go  to  bed  all  the  way  across.  I  want  to  sit 
up  and  see  the  scenery.  When  you've  only  got 
a  short  time  on  the  water  and  aren't  likely  to 
make  a  habit  of  crossing  the  ocean  it's  too  bad 
to  miss  any  of  it,  so  I  didn't  take  a  room." 

"I  don't  think  there's  much  scenery  to  be 
seen  on  the  ocean,"  suggested  Mollie.  "It's 
just  plain  water  all  the  way  over." 

41 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

"O  I  don't  think  so,"  replied  the  Unwise- 
man.  "I  imagine  from  that  story  about  Billy 
the  Rover  there's  a  lot  of  it.  There's  the  Spanish 
main  for  instance.  I  want  to  keep  a  sharp  look 
out  for  that  and  see  how  it  differs  from  Bangor, 
Maine.  Then  once  in  a  while  you  run  across 
a  latitude  and  a  longitude.  I've  never  seen 
either  of  those  and  I'm  sort  of  interested  to  see 
what  they  look  like.  All  I  know  about  'em  is 
that  one  of  'em  goes  up  and  down  and  the  other 
goes  over  and  back — I  don't  exactly  know  how, 
but  that's  the  way  it  is  and  I'm  here  to  learn. 
I  should  feel  very  badly  if  we  happened  to  pass 
either  of  'em  while  I  was  asleep." 

"Naturally,"  said  Mollie. 

"Then  somewhere  out  here  they've  got  a 
thing  they  call  a  horrizon,  or  a  horizon,  or  some- 
thing like  that,"  continued  the  Unwiseman. 
"I've  asked  one  of  the  sailors  to  point  it  out  to 
me  when  we  come  to  it,  and  he  said  he  would. 
Funny  thing  about  it  though — he  said  he'd 
sailed  the  ocean  for  forty-seven  years  and  had 
never  got  close  enough  to  it  to  touch  it.  'Must 
be  quite  a  sight  close  to,'  I  said,  and  he  said 
that  all  the  horrizons  he  ever  saw  was  from  ten 

42 


THE  START 

to  forty  miles  off.  There's  a  place  out  here  too 
where  the  waves  are  ninety  feet  high;  and  then 
there's  the  Fishin'  Banks — do  you  know  I  never 
knew  banks  ever  went  fishin',  did  you?  Must 
be  a  funny  sight  to  see  a  lot  o'  banks  out  fishin'. 
What  State-room  are  you  in,  Mollie?" 

"We've  got  sixty-nine,"  said  Mollie. 

"Sixty-nine,"  demanded  the  Unwiseman. 
"What's  that  mean?" 

"Why  it's  the  number  of  my  room,"  explained 
Mollie. 

"  O, "  said  the  Unwiseman  scratching  his  head 
in  a  puzzled  sort  of  way.  "Then  you  haven't 
got  a  State-room?" 

"Yes,"  said  Mollie.     "It's  a  State-room." 

"I  don't  quite  see,"  said  the  Unwiseman, 
gazing  up  into  the  air.  "If  it's  a  State-room 
why  don't  they  call  it  New  Jersey,  or  Kansas,  or 
Mitchigan,  or  some  other  State  ?  Seems  to  me  a 
State-room  ought  to  be  a  State-room." 

"I  guess  maybe  there's  more  rooms  on  board 
than  there  are  States,"  suggested  Whistlebinkie. 
"There  ain't  more  than  sixty  States,  are  there, 
Mollie?" 

"There's  only  forty-six,"  said  Mollie. 

43 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

"Ah — then  that  accounts  for  number  sixty- 
nine,"  observed  the  Unwiseman.  "They're 

«/ 

just  keeping  a  lot  of  rooms  numbered  until 
there's  enough  States  to  go  around." 

"I  hope  we  get  over  all  right, "  put  in  Whistle- 
binkie,  who  wasn't  very  brave. 

"O  I  guess  we  will,"  said  the  Unwiseman, 
cheerfully.  "I  was  speaking  to  that  sailor  on 
that  very  point  this  morning,  and  he  said  the 
chances  were  that  we'd  go  through  all  right 
unless  we  lost  one  of  the  screws. " 

"Screws?"  inquired  Whistlebinkie. 

'Yes — it  don't  sound  possible,  but  this  ship 
is  pushed  through  the  water  by  a  couple  of 
screws  fastened  in  back  there  at  the  stern.  It's 
the  screws  sterning  that  makes  the  boat  go," 
the  Unwiseman  remarked  with  all  the  pride  of 
one  who  really  knows  what  he  is  talking  about. 
"Of  course  if  one  of  'em  came  unfastened  and 
fell  off  we  wouldn't  go  so  fast  and  if  both  of  'em 
fell  off  we  wouldn't  go  at  all,  until  we  got  the 
sails  up  and  the  wind  came  along  and  blew  us 
into  port." 

"Well  I  never!"  said  Whistlebinkie. 

"O  I  knew  that  before  I  came  aboard,"  said 

44 


THE  START 

the  Unwiseman,  sagely.  "So  I  brought  a  half 
dozen  screws  along  with  me.  There  they  are. " 

And  the  old  gentleman  plunged  his  hand  into 
his  pocket  and  produced  six  bright  new  shining 
screws. 

"You  see  I'm  ready  for  anything,"  he 
observed.  "I  think  every  passenger  who  takes 
one  of  these  screwpeller  boats — that's  what  they 
call  'em,  screwpellers — ought  to  come  prepared 
to  furnish  any  number  of  screws  in  case  any- 
thing happens.  I'm  not  going  to  tell  anybody 
I've  got  'em  though.  I'm  just  holding  these 
back  until  the  Captain  tells  us  the  screws  are 
gone,  and  then  I'll  offer  mine." 

"And  suppose  yours  are  lost  too,  and  there 
ain't  any  wind  for  the  sails  ?  "  demanded  Whistle- 
binkie. 

"I've  got  a  pair  o'  bellows  down  in  my  box," 
said  the  Unwiseman  gleefully.  "We  can  sit 
right  behind  the  sails  and  blow  the  whole  busi- 
ness right  in  the  teeth  of  a  dead  clam. " 

"Dead  what?"  roared  Mollie. 

"A  dead  clam,"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "I 
haven't  found  out  why  they  call  it  a  dead  clam— 
unless  it's  because  it's  so  still — but  that's  the  way 

45 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

we  sailors  refer  to  a  time  at  sea  when  there 
isn't  a  handful  o'  wind  in  sight  and  the  ocean  is 
so  smooth  that  even  the  billows  are  afraid  to 
roll  in  it  for  fear  they'd  roll  off." 

"We  sailors! "ejaculated  Whistlebinkie,  scorn- 
fully under  his  breath.  "Hoh!" 

"Well  you  certainly  are  pretty  well  prepared 
for  whatever  happens,  are'nt  you,  Mr.  Unwise- 
man,"  said  Mollie  admiringly. 

"I  like  to  think  so,"  said  the  old  gentleman. 
"There's  only  one  thing  I've  overlooked,"  he 
added. 

"Wass-that?"  asked  Whistlebinkie. 

"I  have  most  unaccountably  forgotten  to 
bring  my  skates  along,  and  I'm  sure  I  don't 
know  what  would  happen  to  me  without  'em 
if  by  some  mischance  we  ran  into  an  iceberg 
and  I  was  left  aboard  of  it  when  the  steamer 
backed  away,"  the  Unwiseman  remarked. 

Here  the  deck  steward  came  along  with  a 
trayful  of  steaming  cups  of  chicken  broth. 

"Broth,  ma'am,"  he  said  politely  to  Mollie. 

"  Thank  you, "  said  Mollie.    "  I  think  I  will. " 

Whistlebinkie  and  the  Unwiseman  also  helped 
themselves,  and  a  few  minutes  later  the  Unwise- 

46 


THE  START 

man  disappeared  bearing  his  cup  in  his  hand. 
It  was  three  hours  after  this  that  Mollie  again 
encountered  him,  sitting  down  near  the  stern 
of  the  vessel,  a  doleful  look  upon  his  face,  and 
the  cup  of  chicken  broth  untasted  and  cold  in 
his  hands. 

"What's  the  matter,  dearie?"  the  little  girl 
asked. 

"O — nothing,"  he  said,  "only  I — I've  been 
trying  for  the  past  three  hours  to  find  out  how 
to  tie  a  sinker  to  this  soup  and  it  regularly  stumps 
me.  I  can  tie  it  to  the  cup,  but  whether  it's  the 
motion  of  the  ship  or  something  else,  I  don't 
know  what,  I  can't  think  of  swallowing  that 
without  feeling  queer  here." 

And  the  poor  old  gentleman  rubbed  his  stom- 
ach and  looked  forlornly  out  to  sea. 


III. 

AT   SEA 

IT  was  all  of  three  days  later  before  the  little 
party  of  travellers  met  again  on  deck.  I  never 
inquired  very  closely  into  the  matter  but  from 
what  I  know  of  the  first  thousand  miles  of  the 
ocean  between  New  York  and  Liverpool  I 
fancy  Mollie  and  Whistlebinkie  took  very  little 
interest  in  anybody  but  themselves  until  they  had 
got  over  that  somewhat  uneven  stretch  of  water. 
The  ocean  is  more  than  humpy  from  Nantucket 
Light  on  and  travelling  over  it  is  more  or  less  like 
having  to  slide  over  eight  or  nine  hundred  miles 
of  scenic  railroads,  or  bumping  the  bumps,  not 
for  three  seconds,  but  for  as  many  successive 
days,  a  proceeding  which  interferes  seriously 
with  one's  appetite  and  gives  one  an  inclination 
to  lie  down  in  a  comfortable  berth  rather  than  to 
walk  vigorously  up  and  down  on  deck — though 
if  you  can  do  the  latter  it  is  the  very  best  thing 
in  the  world  to  do.  As  for  the  Unwiseman  all 
I  know  about  him  during  that  period  is  that  he 

48 


AT  SEA 

finally  gave  up  his  problem  of  how  to  tie  a  sinker 
to  a  half -pint  of  chicken  broth,  and  diving  head 
first  into  the  ventilator  through  which  he  had 
made  his  first  appearance  on  deck,  disappeared 
from  sight.  On  the  morning  of  the  fourth  day 
however  he  flashed  excitedly  along  the  deck  past 
where  Mollie  and  Whistlebinkie  having  gained 
courage  to  venture  up  into  Mollie's  steamer  chair 
were  sitting,  loudly  calling  for  the  Captain. 

"Hi-hullo!"  called  Mollie,  as  the  old  gentle- 
man rushed  by.  "Mr.  Me!" — Mr.  Me  it  will 
be  remembered  by  his  friends  was  the  name  the 
Unwiseman  had  had  printed  on  his  visiting 
cards.  "Mister  Me — come  here!" 

The  Unwiseman  paused  for  a  moment. 

"I'm  looking  for  the  Captain"  he  called  back. 
"I  find  I  forgot  to  tell  the  burgular  who's  rented 
my  house  that  he  mustn't  steal  my  kitchen  stove 
until  I  get  back,  and  I  want  the  Captain  to  turn 
around  and  go  back  for  a  few  minutes  so  that 
I  can  send  him  word." 

"He  wouldn't  do  that,  Mr.  Me,"  said  Mollie. 

"Then  let  him  set  me  on  shore  somewhere 
where  I  can  walk  back,"  said  the  Unwiseman. 
"It  would  be  perfectly  terrible  if  that  burgular 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

stole  my  kitchen  stove.  I'd  have  to  eat  all  my 
bananas  and  eclairs  raw,  and  besides  I  use  that 
stove  to  keep  the  house  cool  in  summer. " 

"There  isn't  any  shore  out  here  to  put  you 
on,"  said  Mollie. 

16 Where's  your  bottle  of  native  land?"  jeered 
Whistlebinkie.  "You  might  walk  home  on 
that." 

"Hush,  Whistlebinkie,"  said  Mollie.  "Don't 
make  him  angry." 

"Well,"  said  the  Unwiseman  ruefully.  "I'm 
sure  I  don't  know  what  to  do  about  it.  It  is  the 
only  kitchen  stove  I've  got,  and  it's  taken  me 
ten  years  to  break  it  in.  It  would  be  very  unfor- 
tunate just  as  I've  got  the  stove  to  do  its  work 
exactly  as  I  want  it  done  to  go  and  lose  it." 

"Why  don't  you  send  a  wireless  message?" 
suggested  Mollie.  "  They've  got  an  office  on 
board,  and  you  can  telegraph  to  him." 

"First  rate,"  said  the  old  man.  "I'd  for- 
gotten that."  And  the  Unwiseman  sat  down 
and  wrote  the  following  dispatch : 

DEAR  MR.  BURGULAR: 

Please  do  not  steal  my  kitchen  stove.  If  you  need  a  stove 
steal  something  else  like  the  telephone  book  or  that  empty 

50 


AT  SEA 

bottle  of  Woostershire  Sauce  standing  on  the  parlor  mantel- 
piece with  the  daisy  in  it,  and  sell  them  to  buy  a  new  stove 
with  the  money.  I've  had  that  stove  for  ten  years  and  it  has 
only' just  learned  how  to  cook  and  it  would  be  very  annoying 
to  me  to  have  to  get  a  new  one  and  have  to  teach  it  how  I  like 
my  potatoes  done.  You  know  the  one  I  mean.  It's  the  only 
stove  in  the  house,  so  you  can't  get  it  mixed  up  with  any  other. 
If  you  do  I  shall  persecute  you  to  the  full  extent  of  the  law  and 
have  you  arrested  for  petty  parsimony  when  I  get  back.  If 
you  find  yourself  strongly  tempted  to  steal  it  the  best  thing  to 
do  is  to  keep  it  red  hot  with  a  rousing  fire  on  its  insides  so  that 
it  will  be  easier  for  you  to  keep  you  hands  off. 

Yours  trooly, 

THE  UNWISEMAN. 

P.S.    Take  the  poker  if  you  want  to  but  leave  the  stove.    It's 
a  wooden  poker  and  not  much  good  anyhow. 
Yours  trooly, 

THE  UNWISEMAN. 

"There!"  he  said  as  he  finished  writing  out 
the  message.  "I  guess  that'll  fix  it  all  right." 

"It-tortoo,"  whistled  Whistlebinkie  through 
the  top  of  his  hat. 

"What?"  said  Mollie,  severely. 

"It-ought-to-fix-it,"    repeated    Whistlebinkie. 

And  the  Unwiseman  ran  up  the  deck  to  the 
wireless  telegraph  office.  In  a  moment  he  re- 
turned, his  face  full  of  joy. 

"I  guess  I  got  the  best  of  'em  that  time!"  he 
chortled  gleefully.  "What  do  you  suppose 

51 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

Mollie  ?  They  actually  wanted  me  to  pay  twen- 
ty-one dollars  and  sixty  cents  for  that  telegram. 
The  very  idea!" 

"Phe-ee-ew!"  whistled  Whistlebinkie. 

"  Very  far  from  few,"  retorted  the  Unwiseman. 
"It  was  many  rather  than  few  and  I  told  the 
man  so.  *I  can  buy  five  new  kitchen  stoves  for 
that  amount  of  money/  said  I.  'I  can't  help 
that,'  said  the  man.  'I  guess  you  can't,'  said 
I.  'If  you  could  the  price  o'  kitchen  stoves 
would  go  up'." 

"  What  did  you  do  ?  "  asked  Mollie. 

"I  told  him  I  was  just  as  wireless  as  he  was, 
and  I  tossed  my  message  up  in  the  air  and  last 
time  I  saw  it  it  was  flying  back  to  New  York  as 
tight  as  it  could  go,"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "I 
guess  I  can  send  a  message  without  wires  as  well 
as  anybody  else.  It's  a  great  load  off  my  mind 
to  have  it  fixed,  I  can  tell  you,"  he  added. 

"What  have  you  been  doing  with  yourself 
since  I  saw  you  last,  Mr.  Me?"  asked  Mollie,  as 
her  old  friend  seated  himself  on  the  foot-rest  of 
her  steamer  chair. 

"O  I've  managed  to  keep  busy,"  said  the 
Unwiseman,  gazing  off  at  the  rolling  waves. 

52 


AT  SEA 

Whistlebinkie  laughed. 

"See-zick?"  he  whistled. 

"What  me?"  asked  the  Unwiseman.  "Of 
course  not — we  sailors  don't  get  sea-sick  like 
land-lubbers.  No,  sirree.  I've  been  a  little 
miserable  due  to  my  having  eaten  something 
that  didn't  agree  with  me — I  very  foolishly  ate 
a  piece  of  mince  pie  about  five  years  ago — but 
except  for  that  I've  been  feeling  first  rate.  For 
the  most  part  I've  been  watching  the  screw- 
driver— they've  got  a  big  steam  screw  driver 
down-stairs  in  the  cellar  that  keeps  the  screws  to 
their  work,  and  I  got  so  interested  watching  it  I've 
forgotten  all  about  meals  and  things  like  that." 

"Have  you  seen  horrizon  yet?"  asked  Whis- 
tlebinkie. 

'Yes,"  returned  the  Unwiseman  gloomily. 
"It's  about  the  stupidest  thing  you  ever  saw. 
See  that  long  line  over  there  where  the  sky  comes 
down  and  touches  the  water  ?  " 

"Yep,"  said  Whistlebinkie. 

"WTell  that's  what  they  call  the  horrizon," 
said  the  Unwiseman  contemptuously.  "It's 
nothin'  but  a  big  circle  runnin'  round  and  round 
the  scenery,  day  and  night,  now  and  forever. 

53 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

It  won't  go  near  anybody  and  it  won't  let  any- 
body go  near  it.  I  guess  it's  just  about  the  most 
unsociable  fish  that  ever  swam  the  sea.  Speakin' 
about  fish,  what  do  you  say  to  trollin'  for  a  whale 
this  afternoon  ?  " 

"That  would  be  fine!"  cried  Mollie.  "Have 
you  any  tackle  ?  " 

"Oh  my  yes,"  replied  the  Unwiseman.  "I've 
got  a  half  a  mile  o'  trout  line,  a  minnow  hook 
and  a  plate  full  o'  vermicelli." 

"Vermicelli?"  demanded  Mollie. 

'Yes — don't  you  know  what  Vermicelli  is? 
It's  sort  of  baby  macaroni,"  explained  the  Un- 
wiseman. 

• "  What  good  is  it  for  fishing  ?  "  asked  Whistle- 
binkie. 

"I  don't  know  yet,"  said  the  Unwiseman 
"but  between  you  and  me  I  don't  believe  if  you 
baited  a  hook  with  it  any  ordinary  fish  who'd 
left  his  eyeglasses  on  the  mantel-piece  at  home 
could  tell  it  from  a  worm.  I  neglected  to  bring 
any  worms  along  in  my  native  land  bottle,  and 
I've  searched  the  ship  high  and  low  without 
finding  a  place  where  I  could  dig  for  'em,  so  I 
borrowed  the  vermicelli  from  the  cook  instead.  " 

54 


AT  SEA 

"  Does-swales-like- woyms  ?  "  whistled  Whistle- 
binkie. 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  swales,"  said 
the  Unwiseman. 

"I  meant-t wales,"  said  Whistlebinkie. 

"Never  heard  of  a  twale  neither,"  retorted 
the  Unwiseman.  "Just  what  sort  of  a  rubber 
fish  is  a  twale  ?  " 

"He  means  whales,"  Mollie  explained. 

"Why  don't  he  say  what  he  means  then?" 
said  the  Unwiseman  scornfully.  "I  never  knew 
such  a  feller  for  twisted  talk.  He  ties  a  word 
up  into  a  double  bow  knot  and  expects  every- 
body to  know  what  he  means  right  off  the  handle. 
I  don't  know  whether  whales  like  vermicelli  or 
not.  Seems  to  me  though  that  a  fish  that  could 
bite  at  a  disagreeable  customer  like  Jonah  would 
eat  anything  whether  it  was  vermicelli  or  just 
plain  catterpiller." 

"Well  even  if  they  did  you  couldn't  pull  'em 
aboard  with  a  trout  line  anyhow,"  snapped 
Whistlebinkie.  "Whales  is  too  heavy  for  that." 

"Who  wants  to  pull  'em  aboard,  Smarty?" 
retorted  the  Unwiseman.  "I  leave  it  to  Mollie 
if  I  ever  said  I  wanted  to  pull  'em  aboard.  Quite 

55 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

the  contrary  opposite.  I'd  rather  not  pull  a 
whale  on  board  this  boat  and  have  him  flopping 
around  all  over  the  deck,  smashing  chairs  and 
windows,  and  knockin'  people  overboard  with 
his  tail,  and  spouting  water  all  over  us  like  that 
busted  fire-hose  the  firemen  turned  on  me  when 
I  thought  I'd  caught  fire  from  my  pipe." 

"You  did  say  you'd  take  us  fishing  for  whales, 
Mr.  Me,"  Mollie  put  in  timidly. 

'That's  a  very  different  thing,"  protested  the 
Unwiseman.  "Fishin'  for  whales  is  a  nice  gen- 
tle sport  as  long  as  you  don't  catch  any.  But  of 
course  if  you're  going  to  take  his  side  against 
me,  why  you  needn't  go." 

And  the  Unwiseman  rose  up  full  of  offended 
dignity  and  walked  solemnly  away. 

"Dear  me!"  sighed  Mollie.  "I'm  so  sorry 
he's  angry." 

"Nuwer-mind,"  whistled  Whistlebinkie.  "He 
won't  stay  mad  long.  He'll  be  back  in  a  little 
while  with  some  more  misinformation." 

Whistlebinkie  was  right,  for  in  five  minutes 
the  old  gentleman  returned  on  the  run. 

"Hurry  up,  Mollie!"  he  cried.  "The  sailor 
up  on  the  front  piazza  says  there's  a  school  of 

56 


AT  SEA 

Porpoises  ahead.  I'm  going  to  ask  'em  some 
questions." 

Mollie  and  Whistlebinkie  sprang  quickly  from 
the  steamer  chairs  and  hurried  along  after  the 
Unwiseman. 

"I've  heard  a  lot  about  these  Schools  of  Fish," 
the  Unwiseman  observed  as  they  all  leaned  over 
the  rail  together.  "And  I  never  believed  there 
was  such  a  thing,  because  all  the  fish  I  ever  saw 
were  pretty  stupid — leastways  there  never  were 
any  of  them  could  answer  any  of  the  questions 
I  put  to  'em.  That  may  have  been  because 
being  out  o'  water  they  were  very  uncomfortable 
and  feelin'  kind  of  stiff  and  bashful,  but  out  here 
it  ought  to  be  different  and  I'm  going  to  examine 
'em  and  see  what  they're  taught." 

"Here  they  come!"  cried  Mollie,  as  a  huge 
gathering  of  porpoises  plunging  and  tumbling 
over  each  other  appeared  under  the  lee  of  the  ves- 
sel. "My  what  a  lot!" 

"Hi  there,  Porpy!"  shouted  the  Unwiseman. 
"Por-pee,  come  over  here  a  minute.  What  will 
seven  times  eight  bananas  divided  by  three 
mince  pies  multiplied  by  eight  cream  cakes,  sub- 
tracted from  a  Monkey  with  two  tails  leave  ?  " 

57 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

The  old  man  cocked  his  head  to  one  side  as  if 
trying  to  hear  the  answer. 

"Don't  hear  anything,  do  you  ?  "  he  asked  in  a 
moment. 

"Maybe  they  didn't  hear  you,"  suggested 
Mollie. 

4 '  Askem-something-geezier,"  whistled  Whistle- 
binkie. 

"Something  easier?"  sniffed  the  Unwiseman. 
"There  couldn't  be  anything  easier  than  that. 
It  will  leave  a  very  angry  monkey.  You  just  try 
to  subtract  something  from  a  monkey  some  time 
and  you'll  see.  However  it  is  a  long  question  so 
I'll  give  'em  another." 

The  old  gentleman  leaned  forward  again  and 
addressing  the  splashing  fish  once  more  called 
loudly  out: 

"If  that  other  sum  is  too  much  for  you  per- 
haps some  one  of  you  can  tell  me  how  many 
times  seven  divided  by  eleven  is  a  cat  with  four 
kittens,"  he  inquired. 

Still  there  was  no  answer.  The  merry  crea- 
tures of  the  sea  were  apparently  too  busy  jump- 
ing over  each  other  and  otherwise  indulging  in 
playful  pranks  in  the  water. 

58 


AT  SEA 

"They're  mighty  weak  on  Arithmetic,  that's 
sure,"  sneered  the  Unwiseman.  "I  guess  I'll 
try  'em  on  jography.  Hi  there,  Porpee — you 
big  black  one  over  there — where' s  Elmira,  New 
York?" 

The  Porpoise  turned  a  complete  somersault 
in  the  air  and  disappeared  beneath  the  water. 

"Little  Jackass!"  growled  the  Unwiseman. 
"  Guess  he  hasn't  been  going  to  school  very  long 
not  to  be  able  to  say  that  Elmira,  New  York, 
is  at  Elmira,  New  York.  Maybe  we'll  have 
better  luck  with  that  deep  blue  Porpoise  over 
there.  Hi-you-you  blue  Porpoise.  What's  the 
chief  product  of  the  lunch  counter  at  Pough- 
keepsie?  " 

Again  the  Unwise  old  head  was  cocked  to  one 
side  to  catch  the  answer  but  all  the  blue  porpoise 
did  was  to  wiggle  his  tail  in  the  air,  as  he  butted 
one  of  his  brother  porpoises  in  the  stomach. 
The  Unwiseman  looked  at  them  with  an  angry 
glance. 

"Well  all  I've  got  to  say  about  you,"  he 
shouted,  "is  that  your  father  and  mother  are 
wasting  their  money  sending  you  to  school!" 

To  which  one  of  the  Porpoises  seemed  to  reply 

59 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

by  sticking  his  head  up  out  of  the  crest  of  a  wave 
and  sneezing  at  the  Unwiseman. 

"Haven't  even  learned  good  manners!"  roared 
the  old  gentleman. 

Whereupon  the  whole  school  indulged  in  a 
mighty  scrimmage  in  the  water  jumping  over, 
under  and  upon  each  other  and  splashing  the 
spray  high  in  the  air  until  finally  Whistlebinkie 
in  his  delight  at  the  sight  cried  out, 

"  I-guess-sitz-the-football-team !" 

"I  guess  for  once  you're  right,  Whistlebinkie," 
cried  the  Unwiseman.  "And  that  accounts  for 
their  not  knowing  anything  about  'rithmetic,  jog- 
raphy  or  Elmira.  When  a  feller's  a  foot-ball 
player  he  don't  seem  to  care  much  for  such 
higher  education  as  the  Poughkeepsie  lunch 
counter,  or  how  many  is  five.  I  knew  the 
boys  were  runnin'  foot-ball  into  the  ground 
on  land,  but  I  never  imagined  the  fish  were 
running  it  into  the  water  at  sea.  Too  bad— 
too  bad." 

And  again  the  Unwiseman  took  himself  off  arid 
was  not  seen  again  the  rest  of  the  day.  Nor  did 
Mollie  and  Whistlebinkie  see  much  of  him  for 
the  rest  of  the  voyage  for  the  old  fellow  suddenly 

60 


AT  SEA 

got  it  into  his  head  that  possibly  there  were  a  few 
undiscovered  continents  about,  the  first  sight  of 
which  would  win  for  him  all  of  the  glory  of  a 
Christopher  Columbus,  and  in  order  to  be  un- 
questionably the  very  first  to  catch  sight  of  them, 
he  climbed  up  to  the  top  of  the  fore-mast  and 
remained  there  for  two  full  days.  Fortunately 
neither  the  Captain  nor  the  Bo'-sun's  mate 
noticed  what  the  old  gentleman  was  doing  or 
they  would  have  put  him  in  irons  not  as  a  pun- 
ishment but  to  protect  him  from  his  own  rash 
adventuring.  And  so  it  was  that  the  Unwise- 
man  was  the  first  person  on  board  to  catch  a 
glimpse  of  the  Irish  Coast,  the  which  he  an- 
nounced with  a  loud  cry  of  glee. 

"Land  ho — on  the  starboard  tack!"  he  cried, 
and  then  he  slid  down  the  mast-head  and  rushed 
madly  down  the  deck  crying  joyfully,  "I've  dis- 
covered a  continent.  Hurray  for  me.  I've  dis- 
covered a  continent." 

"Watcher-goin'-t'do-with  it?"  whistled  Whis- 
tlebinkie. 

"Depends  on  how  big  it  is,"  said  the  Unwise- 
man  dancing  gleefully.  "If  it's  a  great  big  one 
I'll  write  my  name  on  it  and  leave  it  where  it  is, 

61 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

but  if  it's  only  a  little  one  I'll  dig  it  up  and  take 
it  home  and  add  it  to  my  back  yard." 

But  alas  for  the  new  Columbus!  It  soon 
turned  out  that  his  new  discovery  was  only  Ire- 
land which  thousands,  not  to  say  millions,  had 
discovered  long  before  he  had,  so  that  the  glory 
which  he  thought  he  had  won  soon  faded  away. 
But  the  old  gentleman  was  very  amiable  about 
it  after  he  got  over  his  first  disappointment. 

"I  don't  care,"  he  confided  to  Mollie  later  on. 
"There  isn't  anything  in  discovering  continents 
anyway.  Look  at  Columbus.  He  discovered 
America,  but  somebody  else  came  along  and 
took  it  away  from  him  and  as  far  as  I  can  find 
out  he  don't  even  own  an  abandoned  farm  in  the 
United  States  to-day.  So  what's  the  good  ?  " 

"  Thass-wat-I~say,"  whistled  Whistlebinkie. 
"I  wouldn't  give  seven  cents  to  discover  all  the 
continents  there  is.  I'd  ruther  be  a  live  rubber 
doll  than  a  dead  dishcover  anyhow." 

Later  in  the  afternoon  when  the  ship  had  left 
Queenstown,  Mollie  found  the  Unwiseman  sit- 
ting in  her  steamer  chair  hidden  behind  a  copy 
of  the  London  Times  which  had  been  brought 
aboard,  and  strange  to  relate  he  had  it  right- 


AT  SEA 

side  up  and  was  eagerly  running  through  its 
massive  columns. 

"Looking  for  more  pollywogs?  "  the  little  girl 
asked. 

"No,"  said  the  Uriwiseman.  "I'm  trying  to 
find  the  latest  news  from  America.  I  want  to 
see  if  that  burgular  has  stole  my  stove.  So  far 
there  don't  seem  to  be  anything  about  it  here,  so 
the  chances  are  it's  still  safe." 

"Do  you  think  they'd  cable  it  across  ?  "  asked 
Mollie. 

"What  the  stove?"  demanded  the  Unwise- 
man.  '  You  can't  send  a  stove  by  cable,  stupid." 
"No— the  news,"  said  Mollie."  It  wouldn't 
be  very  important,  would  it  ?  " 

"It  would  be  important  to  me,"  said  the  Un- 
wiseman,  "and  inasmuch  as  I  bought  and  paid 
for  their  old  paper  I've  got  a  right  to  expect '  em 
to  put  the  news  I  want  in  it.  If  they  don't  I'll 
sue  'em  for  damages  and  buy  a  new  stove  with 
the  money." 

The  next  morning  bright  and  early  the  little 
party  landed  in  England. 


IV. 

ENGLAND 

THE  Unwiseman's  face  wore  a  very  troubled 
look  as  the  little  party  of  travellers  landed  at 
Liverpool.  He  had  doffed  his  sailor's  costume 
and  now  appeared  in  his  regular  frock  coat  and 
old  fashioned  beaver  hat,  and  carried  an  ancient 
carpet-bag  in  his  hand,  presenting  to  Mollie  and 
Whistlebinkie  a  more  familiar  appearance  than 
while  in  his  sea-faring  clothes,  but  he  was  evi- 
dently very  much  worried  about  something. 

"  Cheer  up,"  whistled  Whistlebinkie  noting  his 
careworn  expression.  'You  look  as  if  you  were 
down  to  your  last  cream-cake.  Wass-er-matter  ?" 

"I  think  they've  fooled  us,"  replied  the  Un- 
wiseman  with  a  doubtful  shake  of  his  gray  head. 
"This  don't  look  like  England  to  me,  and  I've 
been  wondering  if  that  ship  mightn't  be  a  pirate 
ship  after  all  that's  carried  us  all  off  to  some 
strange  place  with  the  idea  of  thus  getting  rid  of 
us,  so  that  the  Captain  might  go  home  and  steal 
our  kitchen-stoves  and  other  voluble  things." 

64 


ENGLAND 

"Pooh!"  ejaculated  Whistlebinkie.  "What 
makes  you  thinkit-taint  England?" 

"It's  too  big  in  the  first  place,"  replied  the 
Unwiseman,  "and  in  the  second  it  ain't  the  right 
color.  Just  look  at  this  map  and  you'll  see." 

Here  Mr.  Me  took  a  map  of  the  world  out  of 
his  pocket  and  spread  it  out  before  Whistle- 
binkie. 

66  See  that?"  he  said  pointing  to  England  in 
one  corner.  "  I've  measured  it  off  with  a  tape 
measure  and  it's  only  four  inches  long  and  about 
an  inch  and  a  half  wide.  This  place  we're  in 
now  is  more'n  five  miles  long  and,  as  far  as  I 
can  see  two  or  three  miles  across.  And  look  at 
the  color  on  the  map. " 

"Tspink,"  said  Whistlebinkie. 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean  by  tspink," 
said  the  Unwiseman,  "but— 

"It's — pink,"  explained  Whistlebinkie. 

"Exactly,"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "That's 
just  what  it  is,  but  that  ain't  the  color  of  this 
place.  Seems  to  me  this  place  is  a  sort  of  dull 
yellow  dusty  brown.  And  besides  I  don't  see 
any  houses  on  the  map  and  this  place  is  just 
chock-full  of  them." 

5  65 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

"O  well,  I  guess  it's  all  right,"  said  Whistle- 
binkie.  "Maybe  when  we  get  further  in  we'll 
find  it  grows  pinker.  Cities  ain't  never  the  same 
color  as  the  country  you  know." 

"Possibly,"  said  the  Unwiseman,  "but  even 
then  that  wouldn't  account  for  the  difference  in 
size.  Why  should  the  map  say  it's  four  inches 
by  an  inch  and  a  half,  when  anybody  can  see 
that  this  place  is  five  miles  by  three  just  by 
looking  at  it  ?" 

"I  guess-smaybe  it's  grown  some  since  that  map 
was  made,"  suggested  Whistlebinkie.  "Being 
surrounded  by  water  you'd  think  it  would 
grow. " 

Just  then  a  British  policeman  walked  along 
the  landing  stage  and  Whistlebinkie  added, 
"There's  a  p'liceman.  You  might  speak  to  him 
about  it." 

"Good  idea,"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "I'll  do 
it  "  And  he  walked  up  to  the  officer. 

"Good  morning,  Robert,"  said  he.  "You'll 
pardon  my  curiosity,  but  is  this  England?" 

"Yessir,"  replied  the  officer  politely.  "You 
are  on  British  soil,  sir." 

"H'm!    British,  eh?"  observed  the  Unwise- 

•       66 


ENGLAND 

man.    "  Just  what  is  that  ?    French  for  English, 
I  suppose." 

"This  is  Great  Britain,  sir,"  explained  the 
officer  with  a  smile.  "Hingland  is  a  part  of 
Great  Britain." 

"Hingland?"  asked  the  Unwiseman  with  a 
frown. 

"Yessir — this  is  Hingland,  sir,"  replied  the 
policeman,  as  he  turned  on  his  heel  and  wan- 
dered on  down  the  stage  leaving  the  Unwiseman 
more  perplexed  than  when  he  had  asked  the 
question. 

"It  looks  queerer  than  ever,"  said  the  Unwise- 
man  when  he  had  returned  to  Whistlebinkie. 
"These  people  don't  seem  to  have  agreed  on  the 
name  of  this  place,  which  I  consider  to  be  a  very 
suspicious  circumstance.  That  police-man  said 
first  it  was  England,  then  he  said  it  was  Great 
Britain,  and  then  he  changed  it  to  Hingland, 
while  Mollie's  father  says  it's  Liverpool.  It's 
mighty  strange,  and  I  wish  I  was  well  out  of  it. " 

"Why  did  you  call  the  p'liceman  Robert,  Mr. 
Me?"  asked  Whistlebinkie,  who  somehow  or 
other  did  not  seem  to  share  the  old  gentleman's 
fears. 

67 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

"  O  I  read  somewhere  that  the  English  police- 
men were  all  Bobbies,"  the  Unwiseman  replied. 
"But  I  didn't  feel  that  I'd  ought  to  be  so  familiar 
as  to  call  him  that  until  I'd  got  to  know  him 
better,  so  I  just  called  him  Robert." 

Later  on  Mollie  explained  the  situation  to  the 
old  fellow. 

"Liverpool,"  she  said,  "is  a  part  of  England 
and  England  is  a  part  of  Great  Britain,  just  as 
Binghamton  is  a  part  of  New  York  and  New 
York  is  a  part  of  the  United  States  of  America. " 

"Ah— that's  it,  eh?"  he  answered.  "And 
how  about  Hingland?" 

"That  is  the  way  some  of  the  English  people 
talk,"  explained  Mollie.  "A  great  many  of 
them  drop  their  H's,"  she  added. 

"Aha!"  said  the  Unwiseman,  nodding  his 
head.  "I  see.  And  the  police  go  around  after 
them  picking  them  up,  eh?" 

"I  guess  that's  it,"  said  Mollie. 

"Because  if  they  didn't,"  continued  the 
Unwiseman,  "the  streets  and  gutters  would  be 
just  over-run  with  'em.  If  20,000,000  people 
dropped  twenty-five  H's  apiece  every  day  that 
would  be  500,000,000  H's  lyin'  around.  I 

68 


ENGLAND 

don't  believe  you  could  drive  a  locomotive 
through  that  many — Mussy  Me!  It  must  keep 
the  police  busy  pickin'  'em  up. " 

"Perfly-awful!"  whistled  Whistlebinkie. 

"I'm  going  to  write  a  letter  to  the  King  about 
it,"  said  the  Unwiseman,  "and  send  him  a  lot 
of  rules  like  I  have  around  my  house  to  keep 
people  from  being  so  careless." 

"That's  a  splendid  idea,"  cried  Mollie,  over- 
joyed at  the  notion.  "What  will  you  say?" 

"H'm!"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "Let  me 
see — I  guess  I'd  write  like  this: "and  the  strange 
old  man  sat  down  on  a  trunk  and  dashed  off  the 
following  letter  to  King  Edward. 

DEAR  MISTER  KING: 

Liverpool,  June  10,  19 — . 

I  understand  that  the  people  of  your  Island  is  very  careless 
about  their  aitches  and  that  the  pleece  are  worked  to  a  frazzil 
pickin'  'em  up  from  the  public  highways.  Why  don't  you  by 
virtue  of  your  exhausted  rank  propagate  the  following  rules 
to  unbait  the  nuisance? 

I.  My  subjex  must  be  more  careful  of  their  aitches. 

II.  Any  one  caught  dropping  an  aitch  on  the  public  side- 
walks will  be  fined  two  dollars. 

III.  Aitches  dropped  by  accident  must  be  picked  up  to 
once  immediately  and  without  delay. 

IV.  All  aitches  found  roaming  about  the  city  streets  unac- 
companied by  their  owners  will  be  promptly  arrested  by  the 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

pleece  and  kept  in  the  public  pound  until  called  for  after 
which  they  will  be  burnt,  and  the  person  calling  for  them  fined 
two  dollars. 

V.  All  persons  whether  they  be  a  pleeceman  or  a  Dook  or 
other  nobil  personidges  seeing  a  strange  aitch  lying  on  the 
sidewalk,  or  otherwise  roaming  at  random  without  any  visible 
owner  whether  it  is  his  or  not  must  pick  it  up  to  once  imme- 
diately and  without  delay  under  penalty  of  the  law. 

VI.  Capital  H's  must  be  muzzled  before  took  out  in  public 
and  must  be  securely  fastened  by  glue  or  otherwise  to  the 
words  they  are  the  beginning  of. 

VII.  Anybody  tripping  up  on  the  aitch  of  another  person 
thus  carelessly  left  lying  about  can  sue  for  damages  and  get 
two  dollars  for  a  broken  leg,  five  dollars  for  a  broken  nose, 
seven  dollars  and  a  half  for  a  black  eye,  and  so  on  up,  from 
the  person  leaving  the  aitch  thus  carelessly  about,  or  a  year's 
imprisonment,  or  both. 

VIII.  A  second  offense  will  be  punished  by  being  sent  to 
South  Africa  for  five  years  when  if  the  habit  is  continued  more 
severe  means  will  be  taken  like  being  made  to  live  in  Boston 
or  some  other  icebound  spot. 

IX.  School  teachers  catching  children  using  aitches  in  this 
manner  will  keep  them  in  after  school  and  notify  their  parents 
who  will  spank  them  and  send  them  to  bed  without  their  supper. 

X.  Pleecemen  will  report  all  aitches  found  on  public  streets 
to  the  public  persecutor  and  will  be  paid  at  the  rate  of  six  cents 
a  million  for  all  they  pick  up. 

I  think  if  your  inadjesty  will  have  these  rules  and  regula- 
tions printed  on  a  blue  pasteboard  card  in  big  red  letters  and 
hung  up  all  over  everywhere  you  will  be  able,  your  h.  r.  h.,  to 
unbait  this  terrible  nuisance. 

Yoors  trooly, 

THE  UNWISEMAN. 
70 


ENGLAND 

P.S.     It  may  happen,  your  h.  r.  h.,  that  some  of  your  subjex 
can't  help  themselves  in  this  aitch  dropping  habit,  and  it  would 
therefore  be  mercyful  of  you  to  provide  letter  boxes  on  all  the 
street  cornders  where  they  could  drop  their  aitches  into  without 
breaking  the  rules  of  your  high  and  mighty  highness. 
Give  my  love  to  the  roil  family. 
Yoors  trooly, 

THE  UNWISEMAN. 

'There,"  he  said  when  he  had  scribbled  the 
letter  off  with  his  lead  pencil.  "If  the  King 
can  only  read  that  it  ought  to  make  him  much 
obliged  to  me  for  helping  him  out  of  a  very 
bad  box.  This  Island  ain't  so  big,  map  or  no 
map,  that  they  can  afford  to  have  it  smoth- 
ered in  aitches  as  it  surely  will  be  if  the  habit 
ain't  put  a  stop  to.  I  wonder  what  the  King's 
address  is." 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Whistlebinkie  with  a 
grin.  "He  and  I  ain't  never  called  on  each 
other  yet. " 

"Is  King  his  last  name  or  his  first,  I  wonder," 
said  the  Unwiseman,  scratching  his  head  won- 
deringly. 

"His  first  name  is  Edward,"  said  Mollie. 
"It  used  to  be  Albert  Edward,  but  he  dropped 
the  Albert." 

71 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

"Edward  what?"  demanded  the  TJnwiseman. 
"Don't  they  call  him  Edward  Seventh?" 

"Yes  they  do,"  said  Mollie. 

"Then  I  guess  I'll  address  it  to  Edward  S. 
King,  Esquire,  Number  Seven,  London — that's 
where  all  the  kings  live  when  they're  home," 
said  the  TJnwiseman. 

And  so  the  letter  went  addressed  to  Edward  S. 
King,  Esquire,  Number  Seven,  London,  Eng- 
land, but  whether  His  Majesty  ever  received  it 
or  not  I  do  not  know.  Certainly  if  he  did  he 
never  answered  it,  and  that  makes  me  feel  that 
he  never  received  it,  for  the  King  of  England  is 
known  as  the  First  Gentleman  of  Europe,  and 
I  am  quite  sure  that  one  who  deserves  so  fine  a 
title  as  that  would  not  leave  a  polite  letter  like 
the  Unwiseman's  unanswered.  Mollie's  father 
was  very  much  impressed  when  he  heard  of  the 
Unwiseman's  communication. 

"  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  the  King  made  him 
a  Duke,  for  that,"  he  said.  "It  is  an  act  of  the 
highest  statesmanship  to  devise  so  simple  a  plan 
to  correct  so  widespread  an  evil.  If  the  Unwise- 
man  were  only  an  Englishman  he  might  even 
become  Prime  Minister." 

72 


ENGLAND 

"No,"  said  the  Unwiseman  later,  when 
Mollie  told  him  what  her  father  had  said.  "He 
couldn't  make  me  Prime  Minister  because  I 
haven't  ever  studied  zoology  and  couldn't  preach 
a  sermon  or  even  take  up  a  collection  properly, 
but  as  for  being  a  Duke — well  if  he  asked  me  as 
a  special  favor  I  might  accept  that.  The  Duke 
of  Me — how  would  that  sound,  Mollie?" 

"Oh  it  would  be  perfectly  beautiful!"  cried 
Mollie  overwhelmed  by  the  very  thought  of  any- 
thing so  grand. 

"Or  Baron  Brains — eh?"  continued  the  Un- 
wiseman. 

"That  would  just  suit  you,"  giggled  Whistle- 
binkie.  "Barren  Brains  is  you  all  over." 

"Thank  you,  Fizzledinkie, "  said  the  Unwise- 
man.  "For  once  I  quite  agree  with  you.  I 
guess  I'll  call  on  some  tailor  up  in  London  and 
see  what  it  would  cost  me  to  buy  a  Duke's 
uniform  so's  to  be  ready  when  the  King  sends 
for  me.  It  would  be  fine  to  walk  into  his  office 
with  a  linen  duster  on  and  have  him  say,  'From 
this  time  on  Mister  Me  you're  a  Duke.  Go  out 
and  get  dressed  for  tea,'  and  then  turn  around 
three  times,  bow  to  the  Queen,  whisk  off  the 

73 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

duster  and  stand  there  in  the  roil  presence  with 
the  Duke's  uniform  already  on.  I  guess  he'd 
say  that  was  American  enterprise  all  right." 

"You'd  make  a  hit  for  sure!"  roared  Whistle- 
binkie  dancing  up  and  down  with  glee. 

"I'll  do  it!"  ejaculated  the  Unwiseman  with 
a  look  of  determination  in  his  eyes.  "If  I  can 
get  a  ready-made  Duke's  suit  for  $8.50  I'll  do  it. 
Even  if  it  never  happened  I  could  wear  the  suit 
to  do  my  gardening  in  when  I  get  home.  Did 
your  father  say  anything  about  this  being 
England  or  not?" 

"Yes,"  said  Mollie.  "He  said  it  was  England 
all  right.  He's  been  here  before  and  he  says 
you  can  always  tell  it  by  the  soldiers  walking 
around  with  little  pint  measures  on  their  heads 
instead  of  hats,  and  little  boys  in  beaver  hats 
with  no  tails  to  their  coats." 

"All  right,"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "I'm 
satisfied  if  he  is — only  the  man  that  got  up  that 
map  ought  to  be  spoken  to  about  making  it 
pink  when  it  is  only  a  dull  yellow  dusty  gray, 
and  only  four  inches  long  instead  of  five  miles. 
Some  stranger  trying  to  find  it  in  the  dark  some 
night  might  stumble  over  it  and  never  know 

74 


ENGLAND 

that  he'd  got  what  he  was  looking  for.     Where 
are  we  going  to  from  here?" 

"We're  going  straight  up  to  London,"  said 
Mollie.  "The  train  goes  in  an  hour — just  after 
lunch.  Will  you  come  and  have  lunch  with  us  ?" 

"No  thank  you,"  replied  the  Unwiseman. 
"I've  got  a  half  dozen  lunches  saved  up  from 
the  ship  there  in  my  carpet  bag,  and  I'll  eat  a 
couple  of  those  if  I  get  hungry. " 

"Saved  up  from  the  ship?"  cried  Mollie. 

"Yep,"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "I've  got  a 
bottle  full  of  that  chicken  broth  they  gave  us 
the  first  day  out  that  I  didn't  even  try  to  eat; 
six  or  seven  bottlefuls  of  beef  tea,  and  about 
two  dozen  ginger-snaps,  eight  pounds  of  hard- 
tack, and  a  couple  of  apple  pies.  I  kept  order- 
ing things  all  the  way  across  whether  I  felt  like 
eating  them  or  not  and  whatever  I  didn't  eat  I'd 
bottle  up,  or  wrap  up  in  a  piece  of  paper  and 
put  away  in  the  bag.  I've  got  just  three  dinners, 
two  breakfasts  and  four  lunches  in  there.  When 
I  get  to  London  I'm  going  to  buy  a  bunch  of 
bananas  and  have  an  eclaire  put  up  in  a  tin  box 
and  those  with  what  I've  already  got  ought  to 
last  me  throughout  the  whole  trip." 

75 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

"By  the  way,  Mr.  Me,"  said  Mollie,  a 
thoughtful  look  coming  into  her  eyes.  "Do 
you  want  me  to  ask  my  Papa  to  buy  you  a  ticket 
for  London  ?  I  think  he'd  do  it  if  I  asked  him." 

"I  know  he  would,"  said  Whistlebinkie. 
"He's  one  of  the  greatest  men  in  the  world  for 
doing  what  Mollie  asks  him  to. " 

"No  thank  you,"  replied  the  Unwiseman. 
"Of  course  if  he  had  invited  me  to  join  the 
party  at  the  start  I  might  have  been  willing  to 
have  went  at  his  expense,  but  seeing  as  how  I  sort 
of  came  along  on  my  own  hook  I  think  I'd  better 
look  after  myself.  I'm  an  American,  I  am,  and 
I  kind  of  like  to  be  free  and  independent  like." 

"Have  you  any  money  with  you?"  asked 
Mollie  anxiously. 

"No,"  laughed  the  Unwiseman.  "That  is, 
not  more'n  enough  to  buy  that  Duke's  suit  for 
$8.50  with.  What's  the  use  of  having  money? 
It's  only  a  nuisance  to  carry  around,  and  it 
makes  you  buy  a  lot  of  things  you  don't  want 
just  because  you  happen  to  have  it  along. 
People  without  money  get  along  a  great  deal 
cheaper  than  people  with  it.  Millionaires  spend 
twice  as  much  as  poor  people.  Money  ain't  very 

76 


ENGLAND 

sociable  you  know  and  it  sort  of  hates  to  stay  with 
you  no  matter  how  kind  you  are  to  it.  So  I  didn't 
bring  any  along  except  the  aforesaid  eight-fifty." 

"Tisn't  much,  is  it,"  said  Mollie. 

"Not  in  dollars,  but  it's  a  lot  in  cents — eight 
hundred  and  fifty  of  'em — that's  a  good  deal," 
said  the  Unwiseman  cheerfully.  "Then  each 
cent  is  ten  mills — that's-O  dear  me — such  a  lot 
of  mills!" 

"Eight  thousand  five  hundred,"  Mollie  cal- 
culated. 

"Goodness!"  cried  the  Unwiseman.  "I  hope 
there  don't  anybody  find  out  I've  got  all  that 
with  me.  I'd  be  afraid  to  go  to  sleep  for  fear 
somebody'd  rob  me." 

"But  how — how  are  you  going  to  get  to 
London?"  asked  Mollie  anxiously.  "It's  too 
far  to  walk." 

"O  I'll  get  there,"  said  the  Unwiseman. 

"He'll  probably  get  a  hitch  on  the  cow- 
catcher," suggested  Whistlebinkie. 

"Don't  you  worry,"  laughed  the  Unwise- 
man. "It'll  be  all  right,  only—  "  here  he  paused 
and  looked  about  him  to  make  sure  that  no  one 
was  listening.  "Only,"  he  whispered,  "I  wish 

77 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

somebody  would  carry  my  carpet-bag.  It's  a 
pretty  big  one  as  you  can  see,  and  I  might — I 
don't  say  I  would — but  I  might  have  trouble 
getting  to  London  if  I  had  to  carry  it." 

"I'll  be  very  glad  to  take  care  of  it,"  said 
Mollie.  "Should  I  have  it  checked  or  take  it 
with  me  in  the  train?" 

"Better  take  it  with  you,"  said  the  Unwise- 
man.  "I  haven't  any  key  and  some  of  these 
railway  people  might  open  it  and  eat  up  all  my 
supplies." 

"Very  well,"  said  Mollie.  "I'll  see  that  it's 
put  in  the  train  and  I  won't  take  my  eyes  off  it 
all  the  way  up  to  London." 

So  the  little  party  went  up  to  the  hotel.  The 
Un wiseman's  carpet-bag  was  placed  with  the 
other  luggage,  and  the  family  went  in  to  lunch- 
eon leaving  the  Unwiseman  to  his  own  devices. 
When  they  came  out  the  old  fellow  was  nowhere 
to  be  seen  and  Mollie,  much  worried  about  him 
boarded  the  train.  Her  father  helped  her  with 
the  carpet-bag,  the  train-door  was  closed,  the 
conductor  came  for  the  tickets  and  with  a  loud 
clanging  of  bells  the  train  started  for  London. 
It  was  an  interesting  trip  but  poor  little  Mollie 

78 


ENGLAND 

did  not  enjoy  it  very  much.  She  was  so  worried 
to  think  of  the  Unwiseman  all  alone  in  England 
trying  some  new  patent  way  of  his  own  for 
getting  over  so  many  miles  from  Liverpool  to 
the  capital  of  the  British  Empire. 

"We  didn't  even  tell  him  the  name  of  our 
hotel,  Whistlebinkie,"  she  whispered  to  her 
companion.  "How  will  he  ever  find  us  again 
in  this  big  place." 

"O-he'11-turn-up  orright,"  whistled  Whistle- 
binkie comfortingly.  "He  knows  a  thing  or 
two  even  if  he  is  an  Unwiseman." 

And  as  it  turned  out  Whistlebinkie  was  right, 
for  about  three  minutes  after  their  arrival  at  the 
London  hotel,  when  the  carpet-bag  had  been  set 
carefully  aside  in  one  corner  of  Mollie's  room, 
the  cracked  voice  of  the  Unwiseman  was  heard 
singing: 

"  O  a  carpet-bag  is  more  comfortabler 

Than  a  regular  Pullman  Car. 
Just  climb  inside  and  with  never  a  stir, 

Let  no  one  know  where  you  are; 
And  then  when  the  train  goes  choo-choo-choo 

And  the  ticket  man  comes  arown, 
You'll  go  without  cost  and  a  whizz  straight  through 

To  jolly  old  London-town. 

To  jolly,  to  jolly,  to  jolly,  to  jolly,  to  jollj  old  London-town." 

79 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

"Hi  there,  Mollie — press  the  latch  on  this 
carpet-bag!"  the  voice  continued. 

"Where  are  you?"  cried  Mollie,  gazing 
excitedly  about  her. 

"In  here,"  came  the  voice  from  the  cavern- 
ous depths  of  the  carpet-bag. 

"In  the  bag,"  gasped  Mollie,  breathless  with 
surprise. 

"  The  same — let  me  out,"  replied  the  Unwise- 
man. 

And  sure  enough,  when  Mollie  and  Whistle- 
binkie  with  a  mad  rush  sped  to  the  carpet-bag 
and  pressed  on  the  sliding  lock,  the  bag  flew 
open  and  Mr.  Me  himself  hopped  smilingly  up 
out  of  its  wide- stretched  jaws. 


V. 

A    CALL    ON   THE    KING 

"MERCY!"  cried  Mollie  as  the  Unwiseman 
stepped  out  of  the  carpet-bag,  and  began  limber- 
ing up  his  stiffened  legs  by  pirouetting  about  the 
room.  "  Aren't  you  nearly  stufficated  to  death  ?" 

"No  indeed,"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "Why 
should  I  be?" 

"Well  I  should  think  the  inside  of  a  carpet- 
bag would  be  pretty  smothery,"  observed  Mollie. 

"Perhaps  it  would  be,"  agreed  the  Unwise- 
man,  "if  I  hadn't  taken  mighty  good  care  that 
it  shouldn't  be.  You  see  I  brought  that  life- 
preserver  along,  and  every  time  I  needed  a  bite 
of  fresh  air,  I'd  unscrew  the  tin  cap  and  get  it. 
I  pumped  it  full  of  fine  salt  air  the  day  we  left 
Ireland  for  just  that  purpose. " 

"What  a  splendid  idea!"  ejaculated  Mollie 
full  of  admiration  for  the  Unwiseman's  ingenuity. 

"Yes  I  think  it's  pretty  good,"  said  the  Un- 
wiseman, "  and  when  I  get  back  home  I'm  going 
to  invent  it  and  make  a  large  fortune  out  of  it. 

6  81 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

Of  course  there  ain't  many  people  nowadays, 
especially  among  the  rich,  who  travel  in  carpet- 
bags the  way  I  do,  or  get  themselves  checked 
through  from  New  York  to  Chicago  in  trunks, 
but  there  are  a  lot  of  'em  who  are  always  com- 
plaining about  the  lack  of  fresh  air  in  railroad 
trains  especially  when  they're  going  through 
tunnels,  so  I'm  going  to  patent  a  little  pocket 
fresh  air  case  that  they  can  carry  about  with 
them  and  use  when  needed.  It  is  to  be  made  of 
rubber  like  a  hot-water  bag,  and  all  you've  got 
to  do  before  starting  off  on  a  long  journey  is  to 
take  your  bicycle  pump,  pump  the  fresh-air 
bag  full  of  the  best  air  you  can  find  on  the  place 
and  set  off  on  your  trip.  Then  when  the  cars 
get  snuffy,  just  unscrew  the  cap  and  take  a 
sniff." 

"My  goodness!"  cried  Mollie.  "You  ought 
to  make  a  million  dollars  out  of  that. " 

"Million?"  retorted  the  Unwiseman.  "Well 
I  should  say  so.  Why  there  are  80,000,000 
people  in  America  and  if  I  sold  one  of  those 
fresh-air  bags  a  year  to  only  79,000,000  of  'em 
at  two  dollars  apiece  for  ten  years  you  see  where 
I'd  come  out.  They'd  call  me  the  Fresh  Air 

82 


A  CALL  ON  THE  KING 

King  and  print  my  picture  in  the  newspapers." 

:'You  couldn't  lend  me  two  dollars  now, 
could  you?"  asked  Whistlebinkie  facetiously. 

'Yes  I  could,"  said  the  Unwiseman  with  a 
frown,  "but  I  won't — but  you  can  go  out  on 
the  street  and  breathe  two  dollars  worth  of  fresh 
air  any  time  you  want  to  and  have  it  charged 
to  my  account." 

Mollie  laughed  merrily  at  the  Unwiseman's 
retort,  and  Whistlebinkie  for  the  time  being  had 
nothing  to  say,  or  whistle  either  for  that  matter. 

'You  missed  a  lot  of  interesting  scenery  on 
the  way  up,  Mr.  Me,"  said  Mollie. 

"No  I  didn't,"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "I 
heard  it  all  as  it  went  by,  and  that's  good  enough 
for  me.  I'd  just  as  lief  hear  a  thing  as  see  it  any 
day.  I  saw  some  music  once  and  it  wasn't  half 
as  pretty  to  look  at  as  it  was  when  I  heard  it, 
and  it's  the  same  way  about  scenery  if  you  only 
get  your  mind  fixed  up  so  that  you  can  enjoy  it 
that  way.  Somehow  or  other  it  didn't  sound 
so  very  different  from  the  scenery  I've  heard  at 
home,  and  that's  one  thing  that  made  me  like  it. 
I'm  very  fond  of  sitting  quietly  in  my  little  room 
at  home  and  listening  to  the  landscape  when  the 

83 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

moon  is  up  and  the  stars  are  out,  and  no  end  of 
times  as  we  rattled  along  from  Liverpool  to 
London  it  sounded  just  like  things  do  over  in 
America,  especially  when  we  came  to  the 
switches  at  the  railroad  conjunctions.  Don't 
they  rattle  beautifully!" 

"They  certainly  do!"  said  Whistlebinkie, 
prompted  largely  by  a  desire  to  get  back  into 
the  good  graces  of  the  Unwiseman.  "I  love  it 
when  we  bump  over  them  so  hard  they  make- 
smee-wissle." 

*  You're  all  right  when  you  whistle,  Fizzle- 
dinkie,"  smiled  the  Unwiseman.  "It's  only 
when  you  try  to  talk  that  you  are  not  all  that 
you  should  be.  Woyds  and  you  get  sort  of 
tangled  up  and  I  haven't  got  time  to  ravel  you 
out.  But  I  say,  Mollie,  we're  really  in  London 
are  we?" 

"Yes,"  said  Mollie.     "This  is  it." 

"Well  I  guess  I'll  go  out  and  see  what  there 
is  about  it  that  makes  people  want  to  come  here," 
said  the  Unwiseman.  "I've  got  a  list  of  things 
I  want  to  see,  and  the  sooner  I  get  to  work  the 
sooner  I'll  see  'em.  First  thing  I  want  to  get  a 
sight  of  is  a  real  London  fog.  Then  of  course  I 

84 


A  CALL  ON  THE  KING 

want  to  go  down  to  the  Aquarium  and  see  the 
Prince  of  Whales,  and  call  on  the  King  and 
Queen,  and  meet  a  few  Dukes,  and  Earls  and 
things  like  that.  Then  there's  the  British 
Museum.  I'm  told  there  is  a  lot  of  very  interest- 
ing things  down  there  including  some  Egyptian 
mummies  that  are  passing  their  declining  years 
there.  I've  never  talked  to  a  mummy  in  my  life 
and  I'd  rather  like  to  meet  a  few  of  'em.  I 
wonder  if  Dick  Whittington's  cat  is  still  living." 

"O  I  don't  believe  so,"  said  Mollie.  "He 
must  have  died  long  years  ago. " 

"The  first  time  and  maybe  the  second  or 
third  or  even  the  fourth  time,"  said  the  Unwise- 
man.  "But  cats  have  nine  lives  and  if  he  lived 
fifty  years  for  each  of  them  that  would  be — let's 
see,  four  times  nine  is  eighteen,  three  times  two 
is  ten,  carry  four  and " 

"It  would  be  450  years,"  laughed  Mollie. 

"Pretty  old  cat,"  said  Whistlebinkie. 

"Well  there's  no  harm  in  asking  anyhow, 
and  if  he  is  alive  I'm  going  to  see  him,  and  if  he 
isn't  the  chances  are  they've  had  him  stuffed 
and  a  stuffed  cat  is  better  to  look  at  than  no  cat 
at  all,"  said  the  Unwiseman,  brushing  off  his 

85 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

hat  preparatory  to  going  out.  "Come  on, 
Mollie — are  you  ready?" 

The  little  party  trudged  down  the  stairs  and  out 
upon  the  avenue  upon  which  their  hotel  fronted. 

"Guess  we'd  better  take  a  hansom,"  said  the 
Unwiseman  as  they  emerged  from  the  door. 
"We'll  save  time  going  that  way  if  the  driver 
knows  his  business.  We'll  just  tell  him  to  go 
where  we  want  to  go,  and  in  that  way  we  won't 
have  to  keep  asking  these  Roberts  the  way 
round. " 

"Roberts?"  asked  Mollie,  forgetting  the  little 
incident  at  Liverpool. 

"Oh  well — the  Bobbies — the  pleecemen," 
replied  the  Unwiseman.  "  I  want  to  get  used  to 
'em  before  I  call  them  that." 

So  they  all  climbed  into  a  hansom  cab. 

"Where  to,  sir?"  asked  the  cabby,  through 
the  little  hole  in  the  roof. 

"Well  I  suppose  we  ought  to  call  on  the  King 
first,"  said  the  Unwiseman  to  Mollie.  "Don't 
you?" 

"I  guess  so,"  said  Mollie  timidly. 

"To  the  King's"  said  the  Unwiseman,  through 
the  little  hole. 

86 


A  CALL  ON  THE  KING 

"Beg  pardon!"  replied  the  astonished  cabby. 

"Don't  mention  it,"  said  the  Unwiseman. 
"Drive  to  the  King's  house  first  and  apologize 
afterwards." 

"I  only  wanted  to  know  where  you  wished  to 
go,  sir,"  said  the  cabby. 

"The  King's,  stupid,"  roared  the  Unwiseman 
-"  Mr.  Edward  S.  King's — didn't  you  ever  hear 
of  him?" 

"To  the  Palace,  sir?"  asked  the  driver. 

"Of  course  unless  his  h.  r.  h.  is  living  in  a 
tent  somewhere — and  hurry  up.  We  didn't 
engage  you  for  the  pleasures  of  conversation, 
but  to  drive  us,"  said  the  Unwiseman  severely. 

The  amazed  cabman  whipped  up  his  horse 
and  a  short  while  afterwards  reached  Bucking- 
ham Palace,  the  home  of  the  King  and  Queen 
in  London.  At  either  side  of  the  gate  was  a 
tall  sentry  box,  and  a  magnificent  red-coated 
soldier  with  a  high  bear-skin  shako  on  his  head 
paced  along  the  path. 

"There  he  is  now,"  said  the  Unwiseman, 
excitedly,  pointing  at  the  guard.  "Isn't  he  a 
magnificent  sight.  Come  along  and  I'll  intro- 
duce you." 

87 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

The  Unwiseman  leapt  jauntily  out  of  the 
hansom  and  Mollie  and  Whistlebinkie  timidly 
followed. 

"Howdido,  Mr.  King,"  said  the  Unwiseman 
stepping  in  front  of  the  sentry  and  making  a 
profound  salaam  and  almost  sweeping  the  walk 
with  his  hat.  "  We've  just  arrived  in  London 
and  have  called  to  pay  our  respects  to  you  and 
Mrs.  King.  I  hope  the  children  are  well.  We're 
Americans,  Mr.  King,  but  for  the  time  being 
we've  decided  to  overlook  all  our  little  differences 
growing  out  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence 
and  wish  you  a  Merry  Fourth  of  July." 

The  sentry  was  dumb  with  amazement  at 
this  unexpected  greeting,  and  the  cabby's  eyes 
nearly  dropped  out  of  his  head  they  bulged  so. 

"Mollie,  dear,"  continued  Mr.  Me,  "Come 
here,  my  child  and  let  me  introduce  you  to  Mr. 
King.  Mr.  King,  this  is  a  little  American  girl 
named  Mollie.  She's  a  bit  bashful  in  your 
h.  r.  h's  presence  because  between  you  and  me 
you  are  the  first  real  King  she's  ever  saw. 
We  don't  grow  'em  in  our  country — that  is 
not  your  kind.  We  have  Cattle  Kings  and 
Steel  Kings,  and  I'm  expecting  to  become  a 


MOLLY   MAKES    HER    COURTESY   TO    MR.    KING 


A  CALL  ON  THE  KING 

Fresh  Air  King  myself — but  the  kind  that's 
born  to  the — er — to  the  purple  like  yourself, 
with  a  gilt  crown  on  his  head  and  the  spectre 
of  power  in  his  hand  we  don't  get  even  at 
the  circus." 

"Very  glad  to  meet  you,"  gasped  Mollie, 
feasting  her  eyes  upon  the  gorgeous  red  coat  of 
the  sentry. 

The  sentry  not  knowing  what  else  to  do  and 
utterly  upset  by  the  Unwiseman's  eloquence 
returned  the  gasp  as  politely  as  he  could. 

"She's  a  mighty  nice  little  girl,  Mr.  King," 
said  the  Unwiseman  with  a  fond  glance  of 
admiration  at  Mollie.  "And  if  any  of  your 
little  kings  and  queens  feel  like  calling  at  the 
hotel  some  morning  for  a  friendly  Anglo- 
American  romp,  Mollie  will  be  very  glad  to  see 
them.  This  other  youn^  person,  your  h.  r.  h., 
is  Whistlebinkie  who  belongs  to  one  of  the  best 
Rubber  families  of  the  United  States.  He  looks 
better  than  he  talks.  Whistlebinkie,  Mr.  King. 
Mr.  King,  Whistlebinkie." 

Whistlebinkie,  too  overcome  to  speak,  merely 
squeaked,  a  proceeding  which  seemed  to  please 
the  sentry  very  much  for  he  returned  a  truty 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

royal  smile  and  expressed  himself  as  being  very 
glad  to  meet  Whistlebinkie. 

"Been  having  pretty  cold  weather?"  asked 
the  Unwiseman  genially. 

"Been  rawther  'ot,"  said  the  sentry. 

"I  only  asked,"  said  the  Unwiseman  with  a 
glance  at  the  guard's  shako,  "because  I  see  you 
have  your  fur  crown  on.  Our  American  Kings 
wear  Panama  crowns  this  weather,"  he  added, 
"but  then  we're  free  over  there  and  can  do 
pretty  much  what  we  like.  Did  you  get  my 
letter?" 

"Beg  your  pardon?"  asked  the  sentry. 

"Mercy!"  ejaculated  the  Unwiseman  under 
his  breath.  "What  an  apologetic  people  these 
English  are — first  the  cabby  and  now  the  King." 
Then  he  repeated  aloud,  "My  letter — I  wrote 
to  you  yesterday  about  this  H  dropping  habit 
of  your  people,  and  I  was  going  to  say  that  if 
after  reading  it  you  decided  to  make  me  a  Duke 
I'd  be  very  glad  to  accept  if  the  clothes  a  Duke 
has  to  wear  don't  cost  more  than  $8.50.  I  might 
even  go  as  high  as  nine  dollars  if  the  suit  was 
a  real  good  one  that  I  could  wear  ten  or  eleven 
years — but  otherwise  I  couldn't  afford  it.  It 

90 


A  CALL  ON  THE  KING 

would  be  very  kind  of  your  h.  r.  h.  to  make  me 
one,  but  I've  always  made  it  a  rule  not  to  spend 
more  than  a  dollar  a  year  on  my  clothes  and 
even  a  Duke  has  got  to  wear  socks  and  neckties 
in  addition  to  his  coats  and  trousers.  Who  is 
your  Majesty's  Tailor?  That  red  coat  fits  you 
like  wall-paper." 

The  sentry  said  something  about  buying  his 
uniforms  at  the  Army  and  Navy  stores  and  the 
Unwiseman  observed  that  he  would  most  cer- 
tainly have  to  go  there  and  see  what  he  could 
get  for  himself. 

"I'll  tell  'em  your  h.  r.  h.  sent  me,"  he  said 
pleasantly,  "and  maybe  they'll  give  you  a  com- 
mission on  what  I  buy. " 

A  long  pause  followed  broken  only  by  Whistle- 
binkie's  heavy  breathing  for  he  had  by  no  means 
recovered  from  his  excitement  over  having  met 
a  real  king  at  last.  Finally  the  Unwiseman 
spoke  again. 

"We'd  like  very  much  to  accept  your  kind 
invitation  to  stay  to  supper,  Mr.  King,"  he 
observed — although  the  sentry  had  said  nothing 
at  all  about  any  such  thing — "but  we  really 
can't  to-night.  You  see  we  are  paying  pretty 

91 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

good  rates  at  the  hotel  and  we  feel  it  a  sort  of 
duty  to  stay  there  and  eat  all  we  can  so  as  to 
get  our  money's  worth.  And  we'd  like  to  meet 
the  Queen  too,  but  as  you  can  see  for  yourself 
we're  hardly  dressed  for  that.  We  only  came 
anyhow  to  let  you  know  that  we  were  here  and 
to  tell  you  that  if  you  ever  came  to  America 
we'd  be  mighty  glad  to  have  you  call.  I've  got 
a  rather  nice  house  of  my  own  with  a  kitchen- 
stove  in  it  that  I  wouldn't  sell  for  five  dollars 
that  you  would  enjoy  seeing.  It's  rented  this 
summer  to  one  of  the  most  successful  burgulars 
in  America  and  I  think  you'd  enjoy  meeting 
him,  and  don't  hesitate  to  bring  the  children. 
America's  a  great  place  for  children,  your  h.  r.  h. 
It's  just  chock  full  of  back  yards  for  'em  to  play 
in,  and  banisters  to  slide  down,  and  roller  skat- 
ing rinks  and  all  sorts  of  things  that  children 
enjoy.  I'll  be  very  glad  to  let  you  use  my  um- 
brella too  if  the  weather  happens  to  be  bad. " 

The  sentry  was  very  much  impressed  appar- 
ently by  the  cordiality  of  the  Unwiseman's 
invitation  for  he  bowed  most  graciously  a  half 
dozen  times,  and  touched  his  bear-skin  hat  very 
respectfully,  and  smiled  so  royally  that  any- 


A  CALL  ON  THE  KING 

body  could  see  he  was  delighted  with  the  idea 
of  some  day  visiting  that  far  off  land  where  the 
Unwiseman  lived,  and  seeing  that  wonderful 
kitchen-stove  of  which,  as  we  know,  the  old 
gentleman  was  so  proud. 

"By  the  way,"  said  the  Unwiseman,  con- 
fidentially. "Before  I  go  I'd  like  to  say  to  you 
that  if  you  are  writing  at  any  time  to  the  Emperor 
of  Germany  you  might  send  him  my  kind 
regards.  I  had  hoped  to  be  able  to  stop  over  at 
Kettledam,  or  wherever  it  is  he  lives — no,  it's 
Pottsdam — I  always  do  get  pots  and  kettles 
mixed — I  had  hoped  to  be  able,  I  say,  to  stop 
over  there  and  pay  my  respects  to  him,  but  the 
chances  are  I  won't  be  able  to  do  so  this  trip. 
I'd  hate  to  have  him  think  that  I'd  been  over 
here  and  hadn't  paid  any  attention  to  him,  and  if 
you'll  be  so  kind  as  to  send  him  my  regards  he 
won't  feel  so  badly  about  it.  I'd  write  and  tell 
him  myself,  but  the  fact  is  my  German  is  a 
little  rusty.  I  only  know  German  by  sight — 
and  even  then  I  don't  know  what  it  means  except 
Gesundheit, — which  is  German  for  'did  you 
sneeze?'  So  you  see  a  letter  addressed  to  Mr. 
Hoch " 

93 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

"Beg  pardon,  but  Mr.  Who  sir?"  asked  the 
Sentry. 

"Mr.  Hoch,  der  Kaiser,"  said  the  Unwiseman. 
"That's  his  name,  isn't  it?" 

The  sentry  said  he  believed  it  was  something 
like  that. 

"Well  as  I  was  saying  even  if  I  wrote  he 
wouldn't  understand  what  I  was  trying  to  say, 
so  it  would  be  a  waste  of  time,"  said  the  Unwise- 
man. 

The  sentry  nodded  pleasantly,  and  his  eyes 
twinkled  under  his  great  bear-skin  hat  like  two 
sparkling  bits  of  coal. 

"Good  bye,  your  h.  r.  h.,"  the  Unwiseman 
continued,  holding  out  his  hand.  "It  has  been 
a  real  pleasure  to  meet  you,  and  between  you 
and  me  if  all  kings  were  as  good  mannered  and 
decent  about  every  thing  as  you  are  we  wouldn't 
mind  'em  so  much  over  in  America.  If  the  rest 
of  'em  are  like  you  they're  all  right. " 

And  so  the  Unwiseman  shook  hands  with  the 
sentry  and  Mollie  did  likewise  while  Whistle- 
binkie  repeated  his  squeak  with  a  quaver  that 
showed  how  excited  he  still  was.  The  three 
travellers  re-entered  the  hansom  and  inasmuch 

94 


A  CALL  ON  THE  KING 

as  it  was  growing  late  they  decided  not  to  do  any 
more  sight-seeing  that  day,  and  instructed  the 
cabby  to  drive  them  back  to  the  hotel. 

"Wonderfully  fine  man,  that  King,"  said  the 
Unwiseman  as  they  drove  along.  "I  had  a  sort 
of  an  idea  he'd  have  a  band  playing  music  all 
the  time,  with  ice  cream  and  cake  being  served 
every  five  minutes  in  truly  royal  style." 

"He  was  just  as  pleasant  as  a  plain  everyday 
policeman  at  home,"  said  Mollie. 

"  Pleasanter, "  observed  the  Unwiseman.  "A 
policeman  at  home  would  probably  have  told 
us  to  move  on  the  minute  we  spoke  to  him,  but 
the  King  was  as  polite  as  ginger-bread.  I  guess 
we  were  lucky  to  find  him  outside  there  because 
if  he  hadn't  been  I  don't  believe  the  head-butler 
would  have  let  us  in." 

"How-dy'u-know  he  was  the  King?"  asked 
Whistlebinkie. 

"Oh  I  just  felt  it  in  my  bones,"  said  the 
Unwiseman.  "He  was  so  big  and  handsome, 
and  then  that  red  coat  with  the  gold  buttons — 
why  it  just  simply  couldn't  be  anybody  else." 

"He  didn't  say  much,  diddee,"  whistled 
Whistlebinkie. 

95 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

"No,"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "I  guess  may- 
be that's  one  of  the  reasons  why  he's  a  first  class 
King.  The  fellow  that  goes  around  talking  all 
the  time  might  just  as  well  be  a — well  a  rub- 
ber-doll like  you,  Fizzledinkie.  It  takes  a  great 
man  to  hold  his  tongue." 

The  hansom  drew  up  at  the  hotel  door  and 
the  travellers  alighted. 

"Thank  you  very  much, "said  the  Unwiseman 
with  a  friendly  nod  at  the  cabby. 

"Five  shillin's,  please,  sir,"  said  the  driver. 

"What's  that?"  demanded  the  Unwiseman. 

"Five  shillin's,"  repeated  the  cabby. 

"What  do  you  suppose  he  means?"  asked 
the  Unwiseman  turning  to  Mollie. 

"Why  he  wants  to  be  paid  five  shillings," 
whispered  Mollie.  "Shillings  is  money." 

"Oh — hm — well — I  never  thought  of  that," 
said  the  Unwiseman  uneasily.  "How  much  is 
that  in  dollars?" 

"It's  a  dollar  and  a  quarter,"  said  Mollie. 

"I  don't  want  to  buy  the  horse,"  protested 
the  Unwiseman. 

"Come  now!"  put  in  the  driver  rather  im- 
patiently. "  Five  shillin's,  sir. " 

96 


A  CALL  ON  THE  KING 

"Charge  it,"  said  the  Unwiseman,  shrinking 
back.  "  Just  put  it  on  the  bill,  driver,  and  I'll 
send  you  a  cheque  for  it.  I've  only  got  ten 
dollars  in  real  money  with  me,  and  I  tell  you 
right  now  I'm  not  going  to  pay  out  a  dollar  and 
a  quarter  right  off  the  handle  at  one  fell  swoop." 

"You'll  pay  now,  or  I'll—   '  the  cabby  began. 

And  just  then,  fortunately  for  all,  Mollie's 
father,  who  had  been  looking  all  over  London 
for  his  missing  daughter,  appeared,  and  in  his 
joy  over  finding  his  little  one,  paid  the  cabby 
and  saved  the  Unwiseman  from  what  promised 
to  be  a  most  unpleasant  row. 


VI. 

THEY   GET   SOME    FOG   AND    GO    SHOPPING 

THE  following  day  the  Unwiseman  was  in 
high-feather.  At  last  he  was  able  to  contem- 
plate in  all  its  gorgeousness  a  real  London  fog  of 
which  he  had  heard  so  much,  for  over  the  whole 
city  hung  one  of  those  deep,  dark,  impenetrable 
mists  which  cause  so  much  trouble  at  times  to 
those  who  dwell  in  the  British  capital. 

"Hurry  up,  Mollie,  and  come  out,"  he  cried 
enthusiastically  rapping  on  the  little  girl's  door. 
"There's  one  of  the  finest  fogs  outside  you  ever 
saw.  I'm  going  to  get  a  bottle  full  of  it  and  take 
it  home  with  me." 

"Hoh!"  jeered  Whistlebinkie.  "What  a 
puffickly  'bsoyd  thing  to  do — as  if  we  never 
didn't  have  no  fogs  at  home!" 

"We  don't  have  any  London  fogs  in  America, 
Whistlebinkie,"  said  Mollie. 

"No  but  we  have  very  much  finer  ones," 
boasted  the  patriotic  Whistlebinkie.  "They're 
whiter  and  cleaner  to  begin  with,  and  twice  as 
deep." 


THEY  GET  SOME  FOG  AND  GO  SHOPPING 

"Well  never  mind,  Whistlebinkie,"  said  Mol- 
lie.  "Don't  go  looking  around  for  trouble  with 
the  Unwiseman.  It's  very  nice  to  be  able  to 
enjoy  everything  as  much  as  he  does  and  you 
shouldn't  never  find  fault  with  people  because 
they  enjoy  themselves." 

"Hi-there,  Mollie,"  came  the  Unwiseman's 
voice  at  the  door.  "Just  open  the  door  a  little 
and  I'll  give  you  a  hatful  of  it." 

'You  can  come  in,"  said  Mollie.  "Whistle- 
binkie and  I  are  all  dressed." 

And  the  little  girl  opened  the  door  and  the 
Unwiseman  entered.  He  carried  his  beaver 
hat  in  both  hands,  as  though  it  were  a  pail  with- 
out a  handle,  and  over  the  top  of  it  he  had  spread 
a  copy  of  the  morning's  paper. 

"It's  just  the  finest  fog  ever,"  he  cried  as  he 
came  in.  "Real  thick.  I  thought  you'd  like 
to  have  some,  so  I  went  out  on  the  sidewalk  and 
got  a  hat  full  of  it  for  you." 

Mollie  and  Whistlebinkie  gathered  about  the 
old  gentleman  as  he  removed  the  newspaper 
from  the  top  of  his  hat,  and  gazed  into  it. 

"I  do-see-anthing,"  whistled  Wliistlebinkie. 
You  don't?"  cried  the  Unwiseman.  "Why 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

it's  chock  full  of  fog.  You  can  see  it  can't  you 
Mollie  ?  "  he  added  anxiously,  for  to  tell  the  truth 
the  hat  did  seem  to  be  pretty  empty. 

Mollie  tried  hard  and  was  able  to  convince 
herself  that  she  could  see  just  a  tiny  bit  of  it  and 
acted  accordingly. 

"Isn't  it  beautiful!"  she  ejaculated,  as  if  filled 
with  admiration  for  the  contents  of  the  Unwise- 
man's  hat.  "I  don't  think  I  ever  saw  any  just 
like  it  before — did  you,  Mr.  Me  ?  " 

"No,"  said  the  Unwiseman  much  pleased,  "I 
don't  think  I  ever  did — it's  so  delicate  and — er— 
steamy,  eh?  And  there's  miles  of  it  outdoors 
and  the  Robert  down  on  the  corner  says  we're 
welcome  to  all  we  want  of  it.  I  didn't  like  to 
take  it  without  asking,  you  know." 

"Of  course  not,"  said  Mollie,  glancing  into 
the  hat  again. 

"So  I  just  went  up  to  the  pleeceman  and  told 
him  I  was  going  to  start  a  museum  at  home  and 
that  I  wanted  to  have  some  real  London  fog  on 
exhibition  and  would  he  mind  if  I  took  some. 
'Go  ahead,  sir,'  he  said  very  politely.  'Go 
ahead  and  take  all  you  want.  We've  got  plenty 

of  it  and  to  spare.     You  can  take  it  all  if  you 

100 


THEY  GET  SOME  FOG  AND  GO  SHOPPING 

want  it.'  Mighty  kind  of  him  I  think,"  said  the 
Unwiseman.  "  So  I  dipped  out  a  hat  full  for  you 
first.  AVhere'll  I  put  it  ?  " 

"O ,"  said  Mollie,  "I— I  don't  know.  I 

guess  maybe  you'd  better  pour  it  out  into  that 
vase  up  there  on  the  mantel-piece — it  isn't  too 
thick  to  go  in  there,  is  it  ?  " 

"It  don't  seem  to  be,"  said  the  Unwiseman 
peering  cautiously  into  the  hat.  "Somehow  or 
other  it  don't  seem  quite  as  thick  inside  here  as 
it  did  out  there  on  the  street.  Tell  you  the 
truth  I  don't  believe  it'll  keep  unless  we  get  it  in  a 
bottle  and  cork  it  up  good  and  tight — do  you?" 

"I'm  afraid  not,"  agreed  Mollie.  It's  some- 
thing like  snow — kind  of  vaporates." 

"I'm  going  to  put  mine  in  a  bottle,"  said  the 
Unwiseman,  "and  seal  the  cork  with  sealing 
wax — then  I'll  be  sure  of  it.  Then  I  thought 
I'd  get  an  envelope  full  and  send  it  home  to  my 
Burgular  just  to  show  him  I  haven't  forgotten 
him — poor  fellow,  he  must  be  awful  lonesome 
up  there  in  my  house  without  any  friends  in  the 
neighborhood  and  no  other  burgulars  about  to 
keep  him  company." 

And  the  strange  little  man  ran  off  to  get  his 

101 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

bottle  filled  with  fog  and  to  fill  up  an  envelope 
with  it  as  well  as  a  souvenir  of  London  for  the 
lonesome  Burglar  at  home.  Later  on  Mollie 
encountered  him  leaving  the  hotel  door  with  a 
small  shovel  and  bucket  in  his  hand  such  as  chil- 
dren use  on  the  beach  in  the  summer-time. 

"The  pleeceman  says  it's  thicker  down  by  the 
river,"  he  explained  to  Mollie,  "and  I'm  going 
down  there  to  shovel  up  a  few  pailsful — though 
I've  got  a  fine  big  bottleful  of  it  already  corked 
up  and  labelled  for  my  museum.  And  by  the 
way,  Mollie,  you  want  to  be  careful  about  Whis- 
tlebinkie  in  this  fog.  When  he  whistles  on  a 
bright  clear  day  it  is  hard  enough  to  understand 
what  he  is  saying,  but  if  he  gets  his  hat  full  of  fog 
and  tries  to  whistle  with  that  it  will  be  something 
awful.  I  don't  think  I  could  stand  him  if  he 
began  to  talk  any  foggier  than  he  does  ordinarily." 

Mollie  promised  to  look  out  for  this  and  kept 
Whistlebinkie  indoors  all  the  morning,  much  to 
the  rubber-doll's  disgust,  for  Whistlebinkie  was 
quite  as  anxious  to  see  how  the  fog  would  affect 
his  squeak  as  the  Unwiseman  was  to  avoid  hav- 
ing him  do  so.  In  the  afternoon  the  fog  lifted 
and  the  Unwiseman  returned. 

102 


THEY  GET  SOME  FOG  AND  GO  SHOPPING 

"I  think  I'll  go  out  and  see  if  I  can  find  the 
King's  tailor,"  he  said.  "I'm  getting  worried 
about  that  Duke's  suit.  I  asked  the  Robert 
what  he  thought  it  would  cost  and  he  said  he 
didn't  believe  you  could  get  one  complete  for  less 
than  five  pounds  and  the  way  I  figure  it  out  that's 
a  good  deal  more  than  eight-fifty." 

"It's  twenty-five  dollars,"  Mollie  calculated. 

"Mercy!"  cried  the  Unwiseman.  "It  costs 
a  lot  to  dress  by  the  pound  doesn't  it — I  guess  I'd 
better  write  to  Mr.  King  and  tell  him  I've  de- 
cided not  to  accept." 

"Better  see  what  it  costs  first,"  said  Whistle- 
binkie. 

"All  right,"  agreed  the  Unwiseman.  "I  will 
—want  to  go  with  me  Mollie?" 

"Certainly,"  said  Mollie. 

And  they  started  out.  After  walking  up  to 
Trafalgar  Square  and  thence  on  to  Piccadilly, 
the  Unwiseman  carefully  scanning  all  the  signs 
before  the  shops  as  they  went,  they  came  to  a 
bake-shop  that  displayed  in  its  window  the  royal 
coat  of  arms  and  announced  that  "Muffins  by 
Special  Appointment  to  H.  R.  H.  the  King," 
could  be  had  there. 

103 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

"We're  getting  close,"  said  the  Unwiseman. 
"Let's  go  in  and  have  a  royal  cream-cake." 

Mollie  as  usual  was  willing  and  entering  the 
shop  the  Unwiseman  planted  himself  before  the 
counter  and  addressed  the  sales-girl. 

"I'm  a  friend  of  Mr.  King,  Madame,"  he 
observed  with  a  polite  bow,  "just  over  from 
America  and  we  had  a  sort  of  an  idea  that  we 
should  like  to  eat  a  really  regal  piece  of  cake. 
What  have  you  in  stock  made  by  Special  Ap- 
pointment for  the  King  ?  " 

"We  'ave  Hinglish  Muffins,"  replied  the 
girl. 

"Let  me  see  a  few,"  said  the  Unwiseman. 

The  girl  produced  a  tray-ful. 

"Humph!"  ejaculated  the  Unwiseman  look- 
ing at  them  critically.  "They  ain't  very  differ- 
ent from  common  people's  muffins  are  they? 
What  I  want  is  some  of  the  stuff  that  goes  to  the 
Palace.  I  may  look  green,  young  lady,  but  I 
guess  I've  got  sense  enough  to  see  that  those 
things  are  not  royal." 

"These  are  the  kind  his  majesty  prefers," 
said  the  girl. 

"Come  along,  Mollie,"  said  the  Unwiseman 

104 


"THESE  ARE  THE  KIND  HIS  MAJESTY  PREFERS,"  SAID  THE  GIRL 


THEY  GET  SOME  FOG  AND  GO  SHOPPING 

turning  away.  "  I  don't  want  to  get  into  trouble 
and  I'm  sure  this  young  lady  is  trying  to  fool  us. 
I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you,  Madame,"  he 
added  turning  to  the  girl  at  the  counter.  "We'd 
have  been  very  glad  to  purchase  some  of  your 
wares  if  you  hadn't  tried  to  deceive  us.  Those 
muffins  are  very  pretty  indeed  but  when  you  try 
to  make  us  believe  that  they  are  muffins  by  spe- 
cial appointment  to  his  h.  r.  h.,  Mr.  Edward  S. 
King,  plain  and  simple  Americans  though  we  be, 
we  know  better.  Even  my  rubber  friend,  Whis- 
tlebinkie  here  recognizes  a  bean  when  he  sees  it. 
I  shall  report  this  matter  to  the  King  and  beg  to 
wish  you  a  very  good  afternoon." 

And  drawing  himself  up  to  his  full  height,  the 
Unwiseman  with  a  great  show  of  dignity  marched 
out  of  the  shop  followed  meekly  by  Mollie  and 
Whistlebinkie. 

"I  -  didn  -  tsee  -  an  -  thing  th  -  matter  -  withem," 
whistled  Whistlebinkie.  "They  looked  to  me 
like  firs-class-smuffins." 

"No  doubt,"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "That's 
because  you  don't  know  much.  But  they  could- 
n't fool  me.  If  I'd  wanted  plain  muffins  I  could 
have  asked  for  them,  but  when  I  ask  for  a  muffin 

105 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

by  special  appointment  to  his  h.  r.  h.  the  King 
I  want  them  to  give  me  what  I  ask  for.  Perhaps 
you  didn't  observe  that  not  one  of  those  muffins 
she  brought  out  was  set  with  diamonds  and 
rubies." 

"Now  that  you  mention  it,"  said  Mollie,  "I 
remember  they  weren't." 

"Prezactly,"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "They 
weren't  even  gold  mounted,  or  silver  plated,  or 
anything  to  make  'em  different  from  the  plain 
every  day  muffins  that  you  can  buy  in  a  baker's 
shop  at  home.  I  don't  believe  they  were  by  spe- 
cial appointment  to  anybody — not  even  a  nearl, 
much  less  the  King.  I  guess  they  think  we 
Americans  don't  know  anything  over  here — but 
they're  barking  up  the  wrong  tree  if  they  think 
they  can  fool  me." 

"  We-mightuv-tastedum !"  whistled  Whistle- 
binkie  much  disappointed,  because  he  always 
did  love  the  things  at  the  baker's.  "You  can't 
tell  just  by  lookin'  at  a  muffin  whether  it's  good 
or  not." 

"Well  go  back  and  taste  them,"  retorted  the 
Unwiseman.  "It's  your  taste — only  if  I  had  as 
little  taste  as  you  have  I  wouldn't  waste  it  on 

106 


THEY  GET  SOME  FOG  AND  GO  SHOPPING 

that  stuff.  Ah — this  is  the  place  I've  been  look- 
ing for." 

The  old  man's  eyes  had  fallen  upon  another 
sign  which  read  "Robe  Maker  By  Special  Ap- 
pointment to  T.  R.  H.  The  King  and  The 
Queen." 

"Here's  the  place,  Mollie,  where  they  make 
the  King's  clothes,"  he  said.  "Now  for  it." 

Hand  in  hand  the  three  travellers  entered  the 
tailor's  shop. 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Snip,"  said  the  Unwise- 
man  addressing  the  gentlemanly  manager  of  the 
shop  whose  name  was  on  the  sign  without  and 
who  approached  him  as  affably  as  though  he 
were  not  himself  the  greatest  tailor  in  the  British 
Isles — for  he  couldn't  have  been  the  King's  tailor 
if  he  had  not  been  head  and  shoulders  above  all 
the  rest.  "I  had  a  very  pleasant  little  chat  with 
his  h.  r.  h.  about  you  yesterday.  I  could  see  by 
the  fit  of  his  red  jacket  that  you  were  the  best 
tailor  in  the  world,  and  while  he  didn't  say  very 
much  on  the  subject  the  King  gave  me  to  under- 
stand that  you're  pretty  nearly  all  that  you  should 
be." 

"Verry  gracious  of  his  Majesty  I  am  sure," 

107 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

replied  the  tailor,  washing  his  hands  in  invisible 
soap,  and  bowing  most  courteously. 

"Now  the  chances  are,"  continued  the  Unwise- 
man,  "that  as  soon  as  the  King  receives  a  letter 
I  wrote  to  him  from  Liverpool  about  how  to 
stamp  out  this  horrible  habit  his  subjects  have  of 
littering  up  the  street  with  aitches,  clogging  traffic 
and  overworking  the  Roberts  picking  'em  up,  he'll 
ask  me  to  settle  down  over  here  and  be  a  Duke. 
Naturally  I  don't  want  to  disappoint  him  because 
I  consider  the  King  to  be  a  mighty  nice  man,  but 
unless  I  can  get  a  first-class  Duke's  costume— 

"We  make  a  specialty  of  Ducal  robes,  your 
Grace,"  said  the  Tailor,  manifesting  a  great  deal 
of  interest  in  his  queer  little  customer. 

"Hold  on  a  minute,"  cried  the  Unwiseman. 
"Don't  you  call  me  that  yet — I  shant  be  a  grace 
until  I've  decided  to  accept.  What  does  an  A-l 
Duke's  clothes  cost?" 

"You  mean  the  full  State "  began  the 

Tailor. 

"I  come  from  New  York  State,"  said  the  Un- 
wiseman. "Yes — I  guess  that's  it.  New  York's 
the  fullest  State  in  the  Union.  How  much  for 
a  New  York  State  Duke  ?  " 

108 


THEY  GET  SOME  FOG  AND  GO  SHOPPING 

"The  State  Robes  will  cost — um — let  me  see — 
I  should  think  about  fifteen  hundred  pounds, 
your  Lordship,"  calculated  the  Tailor.  "Of 
course  it  all  depends  on  the  quality  of  the  mater- 
ials. Velvets  are  rawther  expensive  these  days/' 

Whistlebinkie  gave  a  long  low  squeak  of 
astonishment.  Mollie  gasped  and  the  Unwise- 
man  turned  very  pale  as  he  tremblingly  repeated 
the  figure. 

"  Fif -teen-hundred-pounds  ?  Why,"  he  added 
turning  to  Mollie,  "I'd  have  to  live  about  seven 
thousand  years  to  get  the  wear  out  of  it  at  a  dol- 
lar a  year." 

"Yes,  your  Lordship — or  more.  It  all  de- 
pends upon  how  much  gold  your  Lordship  re- 
quires— '  observed  the  Tailor. 

"Seems  to  me  I'd  need  about  four  barrels  of 
it,"  said  the  Unwiseman,  "  to  pay  a  bill  like  that." 

"We  have  made  robes  costing  as  high  as  10,000 
pounds,"  continued  the  Tailor.  "But  they  of 
course  were  of  unusual  magnificence — and  for 
special  jubilee  celebrations  you  know." 

"  You  haven't  any  ready  made  Duke's  clothes 

on  hand  for  less  ? "  inquired  the  Unwiseman. 

'You  know  I'm  not  so  awfully  particular  about 

109 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

the  fit.     My  figure's  a  pretty  good  one,  but  after 
all  I  don't  want  to  thrust  it  on  people." 

"We  do  not  deal  in  ready  made  garments," 
said  the  Tailor  coldly. 

"Well  I  guess  I'll  have  to  give  it  up  then," 
said  the  Unwiseman,  "unless  you  know  where 
I  could  hire  a  suit,  or  maybe  buy  one  second- 
hand from  some  one  of  your  customers  who's 
going  to  get  a  new  one." 

"We  do  not  do  that  kind  of  trade,  sir,"  replied 
the  Tailor,  haughtily. 

"Well  say,  Mr.  Snip — ain't  there  anything 
else  a  chap  can  be  made  beside  a  Duke  that  ain't 
quite  so  dressy  ?  "  persisted  the  old  gentleman. 
"  I  don't  want  to  disappoint  Mr.  King  you  know." 

"Oh  as  for  that,"  observed  the  Tailor,  "there 
are  ordinary  peerages,  baronetcies  and  the  like. 
His  Majesty  might  make  you  a  Knight,"  he 
added  sarcastically. 

"That  sounds  good,"  said  the  Unwiseman. 
"About  what  would  a  Knight  gown  cost  me— 
made  out  of  paper  muslin  or  something  that's 
a  wee  bit  cheaper  than  solid  gold  and  velvet  ?  " 

This  perfectly  innocent  and  sincerely  asked 

question  was  never  answered,  for  Mr.  Snip  the 

no 


THEY  GET  SOME  FOG  AND  GO  SHOPPING 

Tailor  made  up  his  mind  that  the  Unwiseman 
was  guying  him  and  acted  accordingly. 

"Jorrocks!"  he  cried  haughtily  to  the  office 
boy,  a  fresh  looking  lad  who  had  broken  out  all 
over  in  brass  buttons.  '' Jorrocks,  show  this 
'ere  party  the  door." 

Whereupon  Mr.  Snip  retired  and  Jorrocks  with 
a  winjs  at  Whistlebinkie  showed  the  travellers  out. 

"Well  did  you  ever!"  ejaculated  the  Unwise- 
man. "You  couldn't  have  expected  any  haugh- 
tier haughtiness  than  that  from  the  King  him- 
self." 

"He  was  pretty  proud,"  said  Mollie,  with  a 
smile,  for  to  tell  the  truth  she  had  had  all  she 
could  do  all  through  the  interview  to  keep  from 
giggling. 

"He  was  proud  all  right,  but  I  didn't  notice 
anything  very  pretty  about  him,"  said  the  Un- 
wiseman. "I'm  going  to  write  to  the  King 
about  both  those  places,  because  I  don't  believe 
he  knows  what  kind  of  people  they  are  with 
their  bogus  muffins  and  hoity-toity  manners." 

They  walked  solemnly  along  the  street  in  the 
direction  of  the  hotel. 

"I  won't  even  wait  for  the  mail,"  said  the 

111 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

Un wiseman.  "  I'll  walk  over  to  the  Palace  now 
and  tell  him.  That  tailor  might  turn  some  real 
important  American  out  of  his  shop  in  the  same 
way  and  then  there'd  be  a  war  over  it." 

"O  I  wouldn't,"  said  Mollie,  who  was  always 
inclined  toward  peace-making.  "Wait  and 
write  him  a  letter. " 

"Send  -  im  -  a  -  wireless  -  smessage,"  whistled 
Whistlebinkie. 

"  Good  idea ! "  said  the  Unwiseman.  "  That'll 
save  postage  and  it'll  get  to  the  King  right  away 
instead  of  having  to  be  read  first  by  one  of  his 
Secretaries. " 

So  it  happened  that  that  night  the  Unwiseman 
climbed  up  to  the  roof  of  the  hotel  and  sent  the 
following  wireless  telegram  to  the  King: 

MY  DEAR  MR.  KING: 

That  tailor  of  yours  seems  to  think  he's  a  Grand  Duke  in 
disguise.  In  the  first  place  he  wanted  me  to  pay  over  seven 
thousand  dollars  for  a  Duke's  suit  and  when  I  asked  him  the 
price  of  a  Knight-gown  he  told  Jorrocks  to  show  me  the  door, 
which  I  had  already  seen  and  hadn't  asked  to  see  again.  He's 
a  very  imputinent  tailor  and  if  I  were  you  I'd  bounce  him  as 
we  say  in  America.  Furthermore  they  sell  bogus  muffins  up 
at  that  specially  appointed  bake-shop  of  yours.  I  think  you 
ought  to  know  these  things.  Nations  have  gone  to  war  for  less. 
Yours  trooly, 

THE  UNWISEMAN. 
112 


THEY  GET  SOME  FOG  AND  GO  SHOPPING 

P.  S.  I've  been  thinking  about  that  Duke  proposition  and 
I  don't  think  I  care  to  go  into  that  business.  Folks  at 
home  haven't  as  much  use  for  'em  as  they  have  for  sour 
apples  which  you  can  make  pie  out  of.  So  don't  do  any- 
thing further  in  the  matter. 

"  There, "  said  the  Unwiseman  as  he  tossed 
this  message  off  into  the  air.  "That  saves  me 
$8.50  anyhow,  and  I  guess  it'll  settle  the  busi- 
ness of  those  bogus  muffin  people  and  that  high 
and  mighty  tailor. " 


VII. 

THE    UNWISEMAN    VISITS    THE    BRITISH    MUSEUM 

"WHAT'S  the  matter,  Mr.  Me?"  asked  Mollie 
one  morning  after  they  had  been  in  London  for 
a  week.  'You  look  very  gloomy  this  morning. 
Aren't  you  feeling  well?" 

"O  I'm  feeling  all  right  physically,"  said  the 
Unwiseman.  "But  I'm  just  chock  full  of  gloom 
just  the  same  and  I  want  to  get  away  from  here 
as  soon  as  I  can.  Everything  in  the  whole  place 
is  bogus." 

"Oh  Mr.  Me!  you  mustn't  say  that!"  pro- 
tested Mollie. 

"Well  if  it  ain't  there's  something  mighty 
queer  about  it  anyhow,  and  I  just  don't  like  it," 
said  the  Unwiseman.  "  I  know  they've  fooled 
me  right  and  left,  and  I'm  just  glad  George 
Washington  licked  'em  at  Bunco  Hill  and 
pushed  'em  off  our  continent  on  the  double 
quick. " 

"What  is  the  particular  trouble?"  asked 
Mollie. 

114 


A  VISIT  TO  THE  BRITISH  MUSEUM 

"Well,  in  the  first  place,"  began  the  old 
gentleman,  "that  King  we  saw  the  other  day 
wasn't  a  real  king  at  all — just  a  sort  of  decoy 
king  they  keep  outside  the  Palace  to  shoo  people 
off  and  keep  them  from  bothering  the  real  one; 
and  in  the  second  place  the  Prince  of  Whales 
aint'  a  whale  at  all.  He  ain't  even  a  shiner. 
He's  just  a  man.  I  don't  see  what  right  they 
have  to  fool  people  the  way  they  do.  They 
wouldn't  dare  run  a  circus  that  way  at  home." 

Mollie  laughed,  and  Whistlebinkie  squeaked 
with  joy. 

"You  didn't  really  expect  him  to  be  a  whale, 
did  you?"  Mollie  asked. 

"Why  of  course  I  did,"  said  the  Unwiseman. 
"Why  not?  They  claim  over  here  that  Britan- 
nia rules  the  waves,  don't  they?" 

"They  certainly  do,"  said  Mollie  gravely. 

"Then  it's  natural  to  suppose  they  have  a 
big  fish  somewhere  to  represent  'em,"  said  the 
Unwiseman.  "The  King  can't  go  sloshing 
around  under  the  ocean  saying  howdido  to 
porpoises  and  shad  and  fellers  like  that.  It's 
too  wet  and  he'd  catch  his  death  of  cold,  so  I 
naturally  thought  the  Prince  of  Whales  looked 

115 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

after  that  end  of  the  business,  and  now  I  find 
he's  not  even  a  sardine.  It's  perfectly  disgust- 
ing." 

"I  knew-he-wasn't-a-fish,"  said  Whistle- 
binkie. 

"Well  you  always  were  smarter  than  anybody 
else,"  growled  the  Unwiseman.  "You  know  a 
Roc's  egg  isn't  a  pebble  without  anybody  tell- 
ing you  I  guess.  You  were  born  with  the 
multiplication  table  in  your  hat,  but  as  for  me 
I'm  glad  I've  got  something  to  learn.  I  guess 
carrying  so  much  real  live  information  around 
in  your  hat  is  what  makes  you  squeak  so." 

The  old  gentleman  paused  a  moment  and 
then  he  went  on  again. 

"What  I'm  worrying  most  about  is  that  mock 
king,"  he  said.  "Here  I've  gone  and  invited 
him  over  to  America,  and  offered  to  present 
him  with  the  freedom  of  my  kitchen  stove  and 
introduce  him  to  my  burgular.  Suppose  he 
comes  ?  What  on  earth  am  I  going  to  do  ? 
I  can't  introduce  him  as  the  real  king,  and  if  I 
pass  him  off  for  a  bogus  king  everybody'll 
laugh  at  me,  and  accuse  me  of  bringing  my 
burgular  into  bad  company." 

116 


A  VISIT  TO  THE  BRITISH  MUSEUM 

"How  did  you  find  it  out?"  asked  Mollie 
sadly,  for  she  had  already  written  home  to  her 
friends  giving  them  a  full  account  of  their 
reception  by  his  majesty. 

"Why  I  went  up  to  the  Palace  this  morning 
to  see  why  he  hadn't  answered  my  letter  and 
this  time  there  was  another  man  there,  wearing 
the  same  suit  of  clothes,  bear-skin  hat,  red 
jacket  and  all,"  explained  the  Unwiseman.  "I 
was  just  flabbergasted  and  then  it  flashed  over 
me  all  of  a  sudden  that  there  might  be  a  big 
conspiracy  on  hand  to  kidnap  the  real  king  and 
put  his  enemies  on  the  throne.  It  was  all  so 
plain.  Certainly  no  king  would  let  anybody  else 
wear  his  clothes,  so  this  chap  must  have  stolen 
them  and  was  trying  to  pass  himself  off  for 
Edward  S.  King  himself." 

"Mercy!"  cried  Mollie.  "What  did  you  do? 
Call  for  help?" 

"No  sirree — I  mean  no  ma'am!"  returned  the 
Unwiseman.  "That  wouldn't  help  matters  any. 
I  ran  down  the  street  to  a  telephone  office  and 
rang  up  the  palace.  I  told  'em  the  king  had  been 
kidnapped  and  that  a  bogus  king  was  paradin' 
up  and  down  in  front  of  the  Palace  with  the 

117 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

royal  robes  on.  I  liked  that  first  king  so  much 
I  couldn't  bear  to  think  of  his  lyin'  off  somewhere 
in  a  dungeon-cell  waiting  to  have  his  head 
chopped  off.  And  what  do  you  suppose  hap- 
pened? Instead  of  arresting  the  mock  king 
they  wanted  to  arrest  me,  and  I  think  they  would 
have  if  a  nice  old  gentleman  in  a  high  hat  and  a 
frock  coat  like  mine,  only  newer,  hadn't  driven 
up  at  that  minute,  bowing  to  everybody,  and 
entered  the  Palace  yard  with  the  whole  crowd 
giving  him  three  cheers.  Then  what  do  you 
suppose  ?  They  tried  to  pass  him  off  on  me  as 
the  real  king — why  he  was  plainer  than  those 
muffins  and  looked  for  all  the  world  like  a  good 
natured  life  insurance  agent  over  home." 

"And  they  didn't  arrest  you?"  asked  Mollie, 
anxiously. 

"No  indeed,"  laughed  the  Unwiseman.  "I 
had  my  carpet-bag  along  and  when  the  pleece- 
man  wasn't  looking  I  jumped  into  it  and  waited 
till  they'd  all  gone.  Of  course  they  couldn't 
find  me.  I  don't  believe  they've  got  any  king 
over  here  at  all." 

"  Then  you'll  never  be  a  Duke  ?  "  said  Whistle- 
binkie. 

118 


A  VISIT  TO  THE  BRITISH  MUSEUM 

"No  sirree!"  ejaculated  the  Unwiseman. 
"  Not  while  I  know  how  to  say  no.  If  they  offer  it 
to  me  I'll  buy  a  megaphone  to  say  no  through  so's 
they'll  be  sure  to  hear  it.  Then  there's  that 
other  wicked  story  about  London  Bridge  fall- 
ing down.  I  heard  some  youngsters  down 
there  by  the  River  announcing  the  fact  and  I 
nearly  ran  my  legs  off  trying  to  get  there  in 
time  to  see  it  fall  and  when  I  arrived  it  not  only 
wasn't  falling  down  but  was  just  ram- jam  full  of 
omnibuses  and  cabs  and  trucks.  Really  I  never 
knew  anybody  anywhere  who  could  tell  as  many 
fibs  in  a  minute  as  these  people  over  here  can." 

"Well  never  mind,  Mr.  Me,"  said  Mollie, 
soothingly.  "Perhaps  things  have  gone  a  little 
wrong  with  you,  and  I  don't  blame  you  for  feel- 
ing badly  about  the  King,  but  there  are  other 
things  here  that  are  very  interesting.  Come 
with  Whistlebinkie  and  me  to  the  British 
Museum  and  see  the  Mummies." 

"Pooh!"  retorted  the  Unwiseman.  "I'd 
rather  see  a  basket  of  figs. " 

"You  never  can  tell,"  persisted  Mollie. 
"They  may  turn  out  to  be  the  most  interesting 
things  in  all  the  world. " 

119 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

"I  can  tell,"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "I've 
already  seen  'em  and  they  haven't  as  much 
conversation  as  a  fried  oyster.  I  went  down 
there  yesterday  and  spent  two  hours  with  'em, 
and  a  more  unapproachable  lot  you  never  saw 
in  your  life.  I  was  just  as  polite  to  'em  as  I 
knew  how  to  be.  Asked  'em  how  they  liked  the 
British  climate.  Told  'em  long  stories  of  my 
house  at  home.  Invited  a  lot  of  'em  to  come 
over  and  meet  my  burgular  just  as  I  did  the  King 
and  not  a  one  of  'em  even  so  much  as  thanked 
me.  They  just  stood  off  there  in  their  glass 
cases  and  acted  as  if  they  never  saw  me,  and  if 
they  did,  hadn't  the  slightest  desire  to  see  me 
again.  You  don't  catch  me  calling  on  them  a 
second  time." 

"But  there  are  other  things  in  the  Museum, 
aren't  there?"  asked  Mollie. 

The  Unwiseman's  gloom  disappeared  for  a 
moment  in  a  loud  burst  of  laughter. 

"Such  a  collection  of  odds  and  ends,"  he 
cried,  with  a  sarcastic  shake  of  his  head.  "I 
never  saw  so  much  broken  crockery  in  all  my  life. 
It  looks  to  me  as  if  they'd  bought  up  all  the  old 
broken  china  in  the  world.  There  are  tea-pots 

120 


A  VISIT  TO  THE  BRITISH  MUSEUM 

without  nozzles  by  the  thousand.  Old  tin  cans, 
all  rusted  up  and  with  dents  in  'em  from  every- 
where. Cracked  plates  by  the  million,  and  no 
end  of  water-pitchers  with  the  handles  broken 
off,  and  chipped  vases  and  goodness  knows 
what  all.  And  they  call  that  a  museum!  Just 
you  give  me  a  half  a  dozen  bricks  and  a  crockery 
shop  over  in  America  and  in  five  minutes  I'll 
make  that  British  Museum  stuff  look  like  a 
sixpence.  When  I  saw  it  first,  I  was  pretty  mad 
to  think  I'd  taken  the  trouble  to  go  and  look  at 
it,  and  then  as  I  went  on  and  couldn't  find  a 
whole  tea-cup  in  the  entire  outfit,  and  saw  people 
with  catalogues  in  their  hands  saying  how 
wonderful  everything  was,  I  just  had  to  sit 
down  on  the  floor  and  roar  with  laughter." 

"But  the  statuary,  Mr.  Me,"  said  Mollie. 
"That  was  pretty  fine  I  guess,  wasn't  it?  I've 
heard  it's  a  splendid  collection." 

"Worse  than  the  crockery,"  laughed  the  Un- 
wiseman.  "There's  hardly  a  statue  in  the  whole 
place  that  isn't  broken.  Seems  to  me  they're 
the  most  careless  lot  of  people  over  here  with 
their  museums.  Half  the  statues  didn't  have 

any  heads  on  'em.    A  good  quarter  of  them  had 

121 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

busted  arms  and  legs,  and  on  one  of  'em  there 
wasn't  anything  left  but  a  pair  of  shoulder 
blades  and  half  a  wing  sticking  out  at  the  back. 
It  looked  more  like  a  quarry  than  a  museum  to 
me,  and  in  a  mighty  bad  state  of  repair  even 
for  a  quarry.  That  was  where  they  put  me 
out,"  the  old  gentleman  added. 

"Put  you  out?"  cried  Mollie.  "Oh  Mr.  Me 
— you  don't  mean  to  say  they  actually  put  you 
out  of  The  British  Museum?" 

"I  do  indeed,"  said  the  Unwiseman  with  a 
broad  grin  on  his  face.  "They  just  grabbed  me 
by  my  collar  and  hustled  me  along  the  floor  to 
the  great  door  and  dejected  me  just  as  if  I 
didn't  have  any  more  feeling  than  their  old 
statues.  It's  a  wonder  the  way  I  landed  I 
wasn't  as  badly  busted  up  as  they  are." 

"But  what  for?  You  were  not  misbehaving 
yourself,  were  you?"  asked  Mollie,  very  much 
disturbed  over  this  latest  news. 

"Of  course  not,"  returned  the  Unwiseman. 
"Quite  the  contrary  opposite.  I  was  trying  to 
help  them.  I  came  across  the  great  big  statue 
of  some  Greek  chap — I've  forgotten  his  name- 
something  like  Hippopotomes,  or  something  of 

122 


A  VISIT  TO  THE  BRITISH  MUSEUM 

the  sort — standing  up  on  a  high  pedestal,  with 

a  sign, 

HANDS  OFF 

hanging  down  underneath  it.  When  I  looked 
at  it  I  saw  at  once  that  it  not  only  had  its  hands 
off,  but  was  minus  a  nose,  two  ears,  one  under- 
lip  and  a  right  leg,  so  I  took  out  my  pencil  and 
wrote  underneath  the  words  Hands  Off: 

LIKEWISE  ONE  NOZE 

ONE  PARE  OF  EARS 

A  LEG  AND  ONE  LIPP 

It  seemed  to  me  the  sign  should  ought  to  be 
made  complete,  but  I  guess  they  thought  dif- 
ferent, because  I'd  hardly  finished  the  second 
P  on  lip  when  whizz  bang,  a  lot  of  attendants 
came  rushing  up  to  me  and  the  first  thing  I 
knew  I  was  out  on  the  street  rubbing  the  back 
of  my  head  and  wondering  what  hit  me. " 

"Poor  old  chap!"  said  Mollie  sympathetically. 

"  Guess  -  you  -  wisht  -  you  -  was  -  mader  -  ubber- 
like-me!"  whistled  Whistlebinkie  trying  hard  to 
repress  his  glee. 

"  What's  that  ?  "  demanded  the  Unwiseman. 

"I  -  guess  -  you  -  wished  -  you  -  were  -  made  -  of  - 
rubber  -  like  -  me!"  explained  Whistlebinkie. 

123 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

"Never  in  this  world,"  retorted  the  Unwise- 
man  scornfully.  "If  I'd  been  made  of  rubber 
like  you  I'd  have  bounced  up  and  down  two  or 
three  times  instead  of  once,  and  I'm  not  so  fond 
of  hitting  the  side- walk  with  myself  as  all  that. 
But  I  didn't  mind.  I  was  glad  to  get  out.  I  was 
so  afraid  all  the  time  somebody 'd  come  along 
and  accuse  me  of  breaking  their  old  things  that 
it  was  a  real  relief  to  find  myself  out  of  doors 
and  nothing  broken  that  didn't  belong  to  me." 

"They  didn't  break  any  of  your  poor  old 
bones,  did  they?"  asked  Mollie,  taking  the 
Unwiseman's  hand  affectionately  in  her  own. 

"No — worse  luck — they  did  worse  than  that," 
said  the  old  gentleman  growing  very  solemn 
again.  "They  broke  that  bottle  of  my  native 
land  that  I  always  carry  in  my  coat-tail  pocket 
and  loosened  the  cork  in  my  fog  bottle  in  the 
other,  so  that  now  I  haven't  more  than  a  pinch 
of  my  native  land  with  me  to  keep  me  from 
being  home-sick,  and  all  of  the  fog  I  was  saving 
up  for  my  collection  has  escaped.  But  I  don't 
care.  I  don't  believe  it  was  real  fog,  but  just 
a.  mixture  of  soot  and  steam  they're  trying  to 
pass  off  for  the  real  thing.  Bogus  like  every- 

124 


A  VISIT  TO  THE  BRITISH  MUSEUM 

thing  else,  and  as  for  my  native  land,  I've  got 
enough  to  last  me  until  I  get  home  if  I'm  care- 
ful of  it.  The  only  thing  I'm  afraid  of  is  that 
in  scooping  what  I  could  of  it  up  off  the  side- 
walk I  may  have  mixed  a  little  British  soil  in 
with  it.  I'd  hate  to  have  that  happen  because 
just  at  present  British  soil  isn't  very  popular 
with  me." 

"Maybe  it's  bogus  too,"  snickered  Whistle- 
binkie. 

"So  much  the  better,"  said  the  Unwiseman. 
"If  it  ain't  real  I  can  manage  to  stand  it. " 

"Then  you  don't  think  much  of  the  British 
Museum?"  said  Mollie. 

"Well  it  ain't  my  style,"  said  the  Unwiseman, 
shaking  his  head  vigorously.  "But  there  was 
one  thing  that  pleased  me  very  much  about  it," 
the  old  man  went  on,  his  eye  lighting  with  real 
pleasure  and  his  voice  trembling  with  patriotic 
pride,  "and  that's  some  of  the  things  they  didn't 
have  in  it.  It  was  full  of  things  the  British  have 
captured  in  Greece  and  Italy  and  Africa  and 
pretty  nearly  everywhere  else — mummies  from 
Egypt,  pieces  of  public  libraries  from  Athens, 
second-story  windows  from  Rome,  and  little 

125 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

dabs  of  architecture  from  all  over  the  map 
except  the  United  States.  That  made  me  laugh. 
They  may  have  had  Cleopatra's  mummy  there, 
but  I  didn't  notice  any  dried  up  specimens  of  the 
Decalculation  of  Independence  lying  around  in 
any  of  their  old  glass  cases.  They  had  a  whole 
side  wall  out  of  some  Roman  capitol  building 
perched  up  on  a  big  wooden  platform,  but  I 
didn't  notice  any  domes  from  the  Capitol  at 
Washington  or  back  piazzas  from  the  White 
House  on  exhibition.  There  was  a  lot  of  busted 
old  statuary  from  Greece  all  over  the  place,  but 
nary  a  statue  of  Liberty  from  New  York  harbor, 
or  figger  of  Andrew  Jackson  from  Philadelphia, 
or  bust  of  Ralph  Waldo  Longfellow  from  Boston 
Common,  sitting  up  there  among  their  trophies — 
only  things  hooked  from  the  little  fellers,  and 
dug  up  from  places  like  Pompey-two-eyes  where 
people  have  been  dead  so  long  they  really 
couldn't  watch  out  for  their  property.  It  don't 
take  a  very  glorious  conqueror  to  run  off  with 
things  belonging  to  people  they  can  lick  with 
one  hand,  and  it  pleased  me  so  when  I  couldn't 
find  even  a  finger-post,  or  a  drug-store  placard, 
or  a  three  dollar  shoe  store  sign  from  America 

126 


A  VISIT  TO  THE  BRITISH  MUSEUM 

in  the  whole  collection  that  my  chest  stuck  out 
like  a  pouter  pigeon's  and  bursted  my  shirt- 
studs  right  in  two.  They'd  have  had  a  lump 
chipped  off  Independence  Hall  at  Philadelphia, 
or  a  couple  of  chunks  of  Bunco  Hill,  or  a  sliver 
off  the  Washington  Monument  there  all  right  if 
they  could  have  got  away  with  it,  but  they 
couldn't,  and  I  tell  you  I  wanted  to  climb  right 
up  top  of  the  roof  and  sing  Yankee  Doodle  and 
crow  like  a  rooster  the  minute  I  noticed  it,  I 
felt  so  good." 

"Three  cheers  for  us,"  roared  Whistlebinkie. 

"That's  the  way  to  talk,  Fizzledinkie, "  cried 
the  old  gentleman  gleefully,  and  grasping 
Whistlebinkie  by  the  hand  he  marched  up  and 
down  Mollie's  room  singing  the  Star  Spangled 
Banner — the  Unwiseman  in  his  excitement  called 
it  the  Star  Spangled  Banana — and  Columbia  the 
Gem  of  the  Ocean  at  the  top  of  his  lungs,  and 
Mollie  was  soon  so  thrilled  that  she  too  joined  in. 

"Well,"  said  Mollie,  when  the  patriotic  ardor 
of  her  two  companions  had  died  down  a  little. 
"What  are  you  going  to  do,  Mr.  Me?  We've 
got  to  stay  here  two  days  more.  We  don't  start 
for  Paris  until  Saturday." 

127 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

"O  don't  bother  about  me,"  said  the  old  man 
pleasantly.  "I've  got  plenty  to  do.  I've  bought 
a  book  called  'French  in  Five  Lessons'  and  I'm 
going  to  retire  to  my  carpet-bag  until  you  people 
are  ready  to  start  for  France.  I've  figured  it 
out  that  I  can  read  that  book  through  in  two 
days  if  I  don't  waste  too  much  of  my  time 
eating  and  sleeping  and  calling  on  kings  and 
queens  and  trying  to  buy  duke's  clothes  for  $8.50, 
and  snooping  around  British  Museums  and  pric- 
ing specially  appointed  royal  muffins,  so  that  by 
the  time  you  are  ready  to  start  for  Paris  I'll  be 
in  shape  to  go  along.  I  don't  think  it's  wise  to 
go  into  a  country  where  they  speak  another 
language  without  knowing  just  a  little  about  it, 
and  if  'French  in  Five  Lessons'  is  what  it  ought 
to  be  you'll  think  I'm  another  Joan  of  Ark  when 
I  come  out  of  that  carpet-bag. " 

And  so  the  queer  old  gentleman  climbed  into 
his  carpet-bag,  which  Mollie  placed  for  him 
over  near  the  window  where  the  light  was  better 
and  settled  down  comfortably  to  read  his  new 
book,  "French  in  Five  Lessons." 

"I'm  glad  he's  going  to  stay  in  there,"  said 
Whistlebinkie,  as  he  and  Mollie  started  out  for 

128 


A  VISIT  TO  THE  BRITISH  MUSEUM 

a  walk  in  Hyde  Park.  "Because  I  wouldn't  be 
a  bit  surprised  after  all  he's  told  us  if  the  pleese 
were  looking  for  him." 

"Neither  should  I,"  said  Mollie.  "If  what 
he  says  about  the  British  Museum  is  true  and 
they  really  haven't  any  things  from  the  United 
States  in  there,  there's  nothing  they'd  like  better 
than  to  capture  an  American  and  put  him  up  in 
a  glass  case  along  with  those  mummies. " 

All  of  which  seemed  to  prove  that  for  once 
the  Unwiseman  was  a  very  wise  old  person. 


VIII. 

THE  UNWISEMAN'S  FRENCH 

THE  following  two  days  passed  very  slowly 
for  poor  Mollie.  It  wasn't  that  she  was  not 
interested  in  the  wonders  of  the  historic  Tower 
which  she  visited  and  where  she  saw  all  the 
crown  jewels,  a  lot  of  dungeons  and  a  splendid 
collection  of  armor  and  rare  objects  connected 
with  English  history;  nor  in  the  large  number 
of  other  things  to  be  seen  in  and  about  London 
from  Westminster  Abbey  to  Hampton  Court 
and  the  Thames,  but  that  she  was  lonesome 
without  the  Unwiseman.  Both  she  and  Whistle- 
binkie  had  approached  the  carpet-bag  wherein 
the  old  gentleman  lay  hidden  several  times,  and 
had  begged  him  to  come  out  and  join  them  in 
their  wanderings,  but  he  not  only  wouldn't  come 
out,  but  would  not  answer  them.  Possibly  he 
did  not  hear  when  they  called  him,  possibly  he 
was  too  deeply  taken  up  by  his  study  of  French 
to  bother  about  anything  else — whatever  it  was 

130 


THE  UNWISEMAN'S  FRENCH 

that  caused  it,  he  was  as  silent  as  though  he  were 
deaf  and  dumb. 

"Less  -  sopen  -  thbag,"  suggested  Whistle- 
binkie.  "  I-don'-bleeve-hes-sinthera-tall. " 

"Oh  yes  he's  in  there,"  said  Mollie.  "I've 
heard  him  squeak  two  or  three  times." 

"Waddeesay  ?"  said  Whistlebinkie. 

"What?"  demanded  Mollie,  with  a  slight 
frown. 

"What  -  did  -  he  -  say  ?"  asked  Whistlebinkie, 
more  carefully. 

"I  couldn't  quite  make  out,"  said  Mollie. 
"Sounded  like  a  little  pig  squeaking." 

"I  guess  it  was-sfrench, "  observed  Whistle- 
binkie with  a  broad  grin.  "Maybe  he  was 
saying  Wee-wee-wee.  That's  what  little  pigs 
say,  and  Frenchmen  too — I've  heard  'em." 

"Very  likely,"  said  Mollie.  "I  don't  know 
what  wee-wee-wee  means  in  little  pig-talk,  but 
over  in  Paris  it  means,  *O  yes  indeed,  you're 
perfectly  right  about  that." 

"He'll  never  be  able  to  learn  French,"  laughed 
Whistlebinkie.  "That  is  not  so  that  he  can 
speak  it.  Do  you  think  he  will  ?" 

"That's  what  I'm  anxious  to  see  him  for," 

131 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

said  Mollie.  "I'm  just  crazy  to  find  out  how 
he  is  getting  along." 

But  all  their  efforts  to  get  at  the  old  gentle- 
man were,  as  I  have  already  said,  unavailing. 
They  knocked  on  the  bag,  and  whispered  and 
hinted  and  tried  every  way  to  draw  him  out  but 
it  was  not  until  the  little  party  was  half  way 
across  the  British  Channel,  on  their  way  to 
France,  that  the  Unwiseman  spoke.  Then  he 
cried  from  the  depths  of  the  carpet  bag: 

"Hi  there — you  people  outside,  what's  going 
on  out  there,  an  earthquake?" 

"Whatid-i-tellu'  "  whistled  Whistlebinkie. 
"  That  ain't  French.  Thass-singlish. " 

"Hallo-outside  ahoy!"  came  the  Unwiseman' s 
voice  again.  Slidyvoo  la  slide  sur  le  top  de  cette 
carpet-bag  ici  and  let  me  out!" 

"That's  French!"  cried  Mollie  clapping  her 
hands  ecstatically  together. 

"Then  I  understand  French  too!"  said 
Whistlebinkie  proudly,  "because  I  know  what 
he  wants.  He  wants  to  get  out." 

"  Do  you  want  to  come  out,  Mr.  Unwiseman  ?  " 
said  Mollie  bending  over  the  carpet-bag,  and 
whispering  through  the  lock. 


132 


THE  UNWISEMAN'S  FRENCH 

"  Wee- wee- wee, "  said  the  Unwiseman. 

"More  -  pig  -  talk,"  laughed  Whistlebinkie. 
"He's  the  little  pig  that  went  to  market." 

"No — it  was  the  little  pig  that  stayed  at  home 
that  said  wee,  wee,  wee  all  day  long,"  said 
Mollie. 

"Je  desire  to  be  lettyd  out  pretty  quick  if 
there's  un  grand  big  earthquake  going  on," 
cried  the  Unwiseman. 

Mollie  slid  the  nickeled  latch  on  the  top  of  the 
carpet-bag  along  and  in  a  moment  it  flew  open. 

"  Kesserkersayker  what's  going  on  out  ici?" 
demanded  the  Unwiseman,  as  he  popped  out  of 
the  bag.  "Je  ne  jammy  knew  such  a  lot  of 
motiong.  London  Bridge  ain't  falling  down 
again,  is  it?" 

"No,"  said  Mollie.  "We're  on  the  boat 
crossing  the  British  Channel." 

"Oh — that's  it  eh?"  said  the  Unwiseman 
gazing  about  him  anxiously,  and  looking  rather 
pale,  Mollie  thought.  "Well  I  thought  it  was 
queer.  When  I  went  to  sleep  last  night  every- 
thing was  as  still  as  Christmas,  and  when  I 
waked  up  it  was  movier  than  a  small  boy  in  a 
candy  store.  So  we're  on  the  ocean  again  eh?" 

133 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

"Not  exactly,"  said  Mollie.  "We're  on  what 
they  call  the  Channel." 

"Seems  to  me  the  waves  are  just  as  big  as 
they  are  on  the  ocean,  and  the  water  just  as  wet, " 
said  the  Unwiseman,  as  the  ship  rose  and  fell 
with  the  tremendous  swell  of  the  sea,  thereby 
adding  much  to  his  uneasiness. 

'Yes — but  it  isn't  so  wide,"  explained  Mollie. 
"It  isn't  more  than  thirty  miles  across." 

"Then  I  don't  see  why  they  don't  build  a 
bridge  over  it,"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "This 
business  of  a  little  bit  of  a  piece  of  water  putting 
on  airs  like  an  ocean  ought  to  be  put  a  stop  to. 
This  motion  has  really  very  much  unsettled — my 
French.  I  feel  so  queer  that  I  can't  remember 
even  what  la  means,  and  as  for  kesserkersay, 
I've  forgotten  if  it's  a  horse  hair  sofa  or  a  pair 
of  brass  andirons,  and  I  had  it  all  in  my  head 
not  an  hour  ago.  O — d-dud-dear!" 

The  Unwiseman  plunged  headlong  into  his 
carpet-bag  again  and  pulled  the  top  of  it  to 
with  a  snap. 

"Oh  my,  O  me!"  he  groaned  from  its  depths. 
"  O  what  a  wicked  channel  to  behave  this  way. 
Mollie— Moll-lie— O  Mollie  I  say." 

134 


THE  UNWISEMAN'S  FRENCH 

"Well?"  said  Mollie. 

"Far  from  it — very  unwell,"  groaned  the 
Unwiseman.  "Will  you  be  good  enough  to  ask 
the  cook  for  a  little  salad  oil  ?" 

"Mercy,"  cried  Mollie.  "You  don't  want  to 
mix  a  salad  now  do  you?" 

"Goodness,  no!"  moaned  the  Unwiseman. 
"I  want  you  to  pour  it  on  those  waves  and  sort 
of  clam  them  down  and  then,  if  you  don't  mind, 
take  the  carpet-bag " 

"Yes,"  said  Mollie. 

"And  chuck  it  overboard,"  groaned  the 
Unwiseman.  "I — I  don't  feel  as  if  I  cared  ever 
to  hear  the  dinner-bell  again." 

Poor  Unwiseman !  He  was  suffering  the  usual 
fate  of  those  who  cross  the  British  Channel,  which 
behaves  itself  at  times  as  if  it  really  did  have  an 
idea  that  it  was  a  great  big  ocean  and  had  an 
ocean's  work  to  do.  But  fortunately  this  uneasy 
body  of  water  is  not  very  wide,  and  it  was  not 
long  before  the  travellers  landed  safe  and  sound 
on  the  solid  shores  of  France,  none  the  worse 
for  their  uncomfortable  trip. 

"I  guess  you  were  wise  not  to  throw  me  over- 
board after  all,"  said  the  Unwiseman,  as  he  came 

135 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

out  of  the  carpet-bag  at  Calais.  "I  feel  as  fine 
as  ever  now  and  my  lost  French  has  returned." 

"I'd  like  to  hear  some,"  said  Mollie. 

"Very  well,"  replied  the  Unwiseman  carelessly. 
"Go  ahead  and  ask  me  a  question  and  I'll  an- 
swer it  in  French." 

"Hm!  Let  me  see,"  said  Mollie  wondering 
how  to  begin.  "Have  you  had  breakfast?  " 

"Wee  Munsieur,  j'ay  le  pain,"  replied  the 
Unwiseman  gravely. 

"What  does  that  mean?"  asked  Mollie,  puz- 
zled. 

"He  says  he  has  a  pain,"  said  Whistlebinkie 
with  a  smile. 

"  Pooh !  Bosh— nothing  of  the  sort,"  retorted 
the  Unwiseman.  "Pain  is  French  for  bread. 
When  I  say  'j'ay  le  pain'  I  mean  that  I've  got  the 
bread." 

"Are  you  the  jay  ?  "  asked  Whistlebinkie  with 
mischief  in  his  tone. 

"  Jay  in  French  is  I  have — not  a  bird,  stupid," 
retorted  the  Unwiseman  indignantly. 

"Funny  way  to  talk,"  sniffed  Whistlebinkie. 
"I  should  think  pain  would  be  a  better  word  for 
pie,  or  something  else  that  gives  you  one." 

136 


THE  UNWISEMAN'S  FRENCH 

"That's  because  you  don't  know,"  said  the 
Unwiseman.  "In  addition  to  the  pain  I've  had 
oofs." 

"Oooffs?"  cried  Whistlebinkie.  "What  on 
earth  are  oooffs?" 

"I  didn't  say  oooffs,"  retorted  the  Unwiseman, 
mocking  Whistlebinkie's  accent.  "I  said  oofs. 
Oofs  is  French  for  eggs.  Chickens  lay  oofs  in 
France.  I  had  two  hard  boiled  oofs,  and  my 
pain  had  burr  and  sooker  on  it." 

"Burr  and  sooker?"  asked  Mollie,  wonder- 


"I  know  what  burr  means  —  it's  French  for 
chestnuts,"  guessed  Whistlebinkie.  "He  had 
chestnuts  on  his  bread." 

"Nothing  of  the  sort,"  said  the  Unwiseman. 
"  Burr  is  French  for  butter  and  has  nothing  to  do 
with  chestnuts.  Over  here  in  France  a  lady 
goes  into  a  butter  store  and  also  says  avvy-voo- 
doo  burr,  and  the  man  behind  the  counter  says 
wee,  wee,  wee,  jay-doo-burr.  Jay  le  bonn-burr. 
That  means,  yes  indeed  I've  got  some  of  the  best 
butter  in  the  market,  ma'am." 

"And  then  what  does  the  lady  say?"  asked 
Whistlebinkie. 

137 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

The  Unwiseman's  face  flushed,  and  he  looked 
very  much  embarrassed.  It  always  embar- 
rassed the  poor  old  fellow  to  have  to  confess 
that  there  was  something  he  didn't  know.  Un- 
wi semen  as  a  rule  are  very  sensitive. 

"That's  as  far  as  the  conversation  went  in  my 
French  in  Five  Lessons,"  he  replied.  "And  I 
think  it  was  far  enough.  For  my  part  I  haven't 
the  slightest  desire  to  know  what  the  lady  said 
next.  Conversation  on  the  subject  of  butter 
doesn't  interest  me.  She  probably  asked  him  how 
much  it  was  a  pound,  however,  if  not  knowing 
what  she  said  is  going  to  keep  you  awake  nights. 

"What's  sooker?"  asked  Mollie. 

"Sooker?  O  that's  what  the  French  people 
call  sugar,"  explained  the  Unwiseman. 

"Pooh!"  ejaculated  Whistlebinkie,  scornfully. 
"What's  the  use  of  calling  it  sooker?  Sooker 
isn't  any  easier  to  say  than  sugar." 

"It's  very  much  like  it,  isn't  it?"  said  Mollie. 

"Yes,"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "They  just 
drop  the  H  out  of  sugar,  and  put  in  the  K  in 
place  of  the  two  Gees.  I  think  myself  when  two 
words  are  so  much  alike  as  sooker  and  shoogger 
it's  foolish  to  make  two  languages  of  'em." 

138 


THE  UNWISEMAN'S  FRENCH 

"Tell  me  something  more  to  eat  in  French," 
said  Whistlebinkie. 

"Fromidge,"  said  the  Unwiseman  bluntly. 

"Fromidge?  What's  that!"  asked  Whistle- 
binkie. 

"Cheese,"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "If  you 
want  a  cheese  sandwich  all  you've  got  to  do  is  to 
walk  into  a  calf — calf  is  French  for  restaurant — 
call  the  waiter  and  say  'Un  sandwich  de  fromidge, 
silver  plate,'  and  you'll  get  it  if  you  wait  long 
enough.  Silver  plate  means  if  you  please.  The 
French  are  very  polite  people." 

"But  how  do  you  call  the  waiter?"  asked 
Whistlebinkie. 

'You  just  lean  back  in  a  chair  and  call 
garkon,"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "That's  what 
the  book  says,  but  I've  heard  Frenchmen  in 
London  call  it  gas  on.  I'm  going  to  stick  to 
the  book,  because  it  might  turn  out  to  be  an 
English  waiter  and  it  would  be  very  unpleasant 
to  have  him  turn  the  gas  on  every  time  you 
called  him." 

"  I  should  say  so,"  cried  Whistlebinkie.  "  You 
might  get  gas  fixturated." 

"You   never  would,"   said   the  Unwiseman. 

139 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

"Anybody  who  isn't  choked  by  your  conversation 
could  stand  all  the  gas  fixtures  in  the  world." 

"I  don't  care  much  for  cheese,  anyhow,"  said 
Whistlebinkie.  "  Is  there  any  French  for  Beef  ?" 

"O  wee,  wee,  wee!"  replied  the  Unwiseman. 
"Beef  is  buff  in  French.  Donny-moi-de-buff — " 

"Donny-moi-de-buff!"  jeered  Whistlebinkie, 
after  a  roar  of  laughter.  "Sounds  like  baby- 
talk." 

"Well  it  ain't,"  returned  the  Unwiseman  se- 
verely. "Even  Napoleon  Bonaparte  had  to  talk 
that  way  when  he  wanted  beef  and  I  guess  the 
kind  of  talk  that  was  good  enough  for  a  great 
Umpire  like  him  is  good  enough  for  a  rubber 
squeak  like  you." 

"Then  you  like  French  do  you,  Mr.  Me?" 
asked  Mollie. 

"Oh  yes — well  enough,"  said  the  Unwiseman. 
"Of  course  I  like  American  better,  but  I  don't 
see  any  sense  in  making  fun  of  French  the  way 
Fizzledinkie  does.  It's  got  some  queer  things 
about  it  like  calling  a  cat  a  chat,  and  a  man  a 
homm,  and  a  lady  a  f  emm,  and  a  dog  a  chi-enn, 
but  in  the  main  it's  a  pretty  good  language  as  far 
as  I  have  got  in  it.  There  are  one  or  two  things 

140 


THE  UNWISEMAN'S  FRENCH 

in  French  that  I  haven't  learned  to  say  yet,  like 
'who  left  my  umbrella  out  in  the  rain/  and  'has 
James  currycombed  the  saddle-horse  with  the 
black  spot  on  his  eye  and  a  bob-tail  this  morn- 
ing,' and  'was  that  the  plumber  or  the  piano 
tuner  I  saw  coming  out  of  the  house  of  your 
uncle's  brother-in-law  yesterday  afternoon/  but 
now  that  I'm  pretty  familiar  with  it  I'm  glad  I 
learned  it.  It  is  disappointing  in  some  ways, 
I  admit.  I've  been  through  French  in  Five  Les- 
sons four  times  now,  and  I  haven't  found  any 
conversation  in  it  about  Kitchen-Stoves,  which 
is  going  to  be  very  difficult  for  me  when  I  get  to 
Paris  and  try  to  explain  to  people  there  how  fine 
my  kitchen-stove  is.  I'm  fond  of  that  old  stove, 
and  when  these  furriners  begin  to  talk  to  me 
about  the  grandness  of  their  country,  I  like  to 
hit  back  with  a  few  remarks  about  my  stove, 
and  I  don't  just  see  how  I'm  going  to  do  it." 

"What's  sky-scraper  in  French?"  demanded 
Whistlebinkie  suddenly. 

"They  don't  have  sky-scrapers  in  French," 
retorted  the  old  gentleman.  "  So  your  question, 
like  most  of  the  others  you  ask,  is  very  very 
foolish." 

141 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

"You  think  you  can  get  along  all  right  then, 
Mr.  Me  ?"  asked  Mollie,  gazing  proudly  at  the 
old  man  and  marvelling  as  to  the  amount  of 
study  he  must  have  done  in  two  days. 

"I  can  if  I  can  only  get  people  talking  the  way 
I  want  'em  to,"  replied  the  Unwiseman.  "I've 
really  learned  a  lot  of  very  polite  conversation. 
For  instance  something  like  this : 

Do  you  wish  to  go  anywhere  ? 
No  I  do  not  wish  to  go  anywhere. 
Why  don't  you  wish  to  go  somewhere  ? 
Because  I've  been  everywhere. 
You  must  have  seen  much. 
No  I  have  seen  nothing. 
Is  not  that  rather  strange  ? 
No  it  is  rather  natural. 
Why? 

Because  to  go  everywhere  one  must  travel  too  rapidly  to 
see  anything." 

"That  you  see,"  the  Unwiseman  went  on, 
"goes  very  well  at  a  five  o'clock  tea.  The  only 
trouble  would  be  to  get  it  started,  but  if  I  once 
got  it  going  right,  why  I  could  rattle  it  off  in 
French  as  easy  as  falling  off  a  log." 

"Smity  interesting  conversation,"  said  Whis- 
tlebinkie  really  delighted. 

"I'm  glad  you  find  it  so,"  replied  the  Unwise- 

142 


THE  UNWISEMAN'S  FRENCH 

man.  "It's  far  more  interesting  in  French  than 
it  is  in  English." 

"  Givus-smore,"  whistled  Whistlebinkie. 

"Give  us  what?"  demanded  the  Unwiseman. 

"Some-more,"  said  Whistlebinkie. 

"Well  here  is  a  very  nice  bit  that  I  can  do  if 
somebody  gives  me  the  chance,"  said  the  Un- 
wiseman. "It  begins: 

Lend  me  your  silver  backed  hand-glass. 

Certainly.     Who  is  that  singing  in  the  drawing  room  ? 

It  is  my  daughter. 

It  is  long  since  I  heard  anyone  sing  so  well. 

She  has  been  taking  lessons  only  two  weeks. 

Does  she  practice  on  the  phonograph  or  on  her  Aunt's 
upright  piano  ? 

On  neither.     She  accompanies  herself  upon  the  banjo. 

I  think  she  sings  almost  as  well  as  Miss  S. 

Miss  S.  has  studied  for  three  weeks  but  Marietta  has  a 
better  ear. 

What  is  your  wife's  grandmother  knitting  ? 

A  pair  of  ear- tabs  for  my  nephew  Jacques. 

Ah — then  your  nephew  Jacques  too  has  an  ear? 

My  nephew  Jacques  has  two  ears. 

What  a  musical  family!" 

"  Spul-lendid !"  cried  Whistlebinkie  raptur- 
ously. "When  do  you  think  you  can  use 
that?" 

"  O  I  may  be  invited  off  to  a  country  house  to 

143 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

spend  a  week,  somewhere  outside  of  Paris,"  said 
the  Unwiseman,  "and  if  I  am,  and  the  chance 
comes  up  for  me  to  hold  that  nice  little  chat  with 
my  host,  why  it  will  make  me  very  popular  with 
everybody.  People  like  to  have  you  take  an 
interest  in  their  children,  especially  when  they 
are  musical.  Then  I  have  learned  this  to  get 
off  at  the  breakfast-table  to  my  hostess : 

I  have  slept  well.  I  have  two  mattresses  and  a  spring 
mattress. 

Will  you  have  another  pillow  ? 

No  thank  you  I  have  a  comfortable  bolster. 

Is  one  blanket  sufficient  for  you  ? 

Yes,  but  I  would  like  some  wax  candles  and  a  box  of 
matches." 

"That  will  show  her  that  I  appreciate  all  the 
comforts  of  her  beautiful  household,  and  at  the 
same  time  feel  so  much  at  home  that  I  am  not 
afraid  to  ask  for  something  else  that  I  happen 
to  want.  The  thing  that  worries  me  a  little 
about  the  last  is  that  there  might  be  an  electric 
light  in  the  room,  so  that  asking  for  a  wax  candle 
and  a  box  of  matches  would  sound  foolish. 
I  gather  from  the  lesson,  however,  that  it  is  cus- 
tomary in  France  to  ask  for  wax  candles  and  a 
box  of  matches,  so  I'm  going  to  do  it  anyhow. 

144 


THE  UNWISEMAN'S  FRENCH 

There's  nothing  like  following  the  customs  of 
the  natives  when  you  can. 

"I'd  like  to  hear  you  say  some  of  that  in 
French,"  said  Whistlebinkie. 

"Oh  you  wouldn't  understand  it,  Whistle- 
binkie," said  the  Unwiseman.  "Still  I  don't 
mind." 

And  the  old  man  rattled  off  the  following: 

"Awy-voo  kelker  chose  ah  me  dire?  Avvy- 
voo  bien  dormy  la  nooit  dernyere?  Sawy-voo 
kieskersayker  cetum  la  avec  le  nez  rouge? 
Kervooly-voo  -  too  -  der  -  sweet  -  silver  -  plate  -  o  - 
see-le-mem.  Donny-moi  des  boogies  et  des 
alloomettes  avec  burr  et  sooker  en  tasse.  La 
Voila.  Kerpensy-voo  de  cette  comedie  mon 
cher  mounseer  de  Whistlebinkie?" 

"Mercy!"  cried  Whistlebinkie.  "What  a 
language!  I  don't  believe  I  ever  could  learn  to 
speak  it." 

"You  learn  to  speak  it,  Whistlebinkie?" 
laughed  the  old  gentleman.  "You?  Well  I 
guess  not.  I  don't  believe  you  could  even  learn 
to  squeak  it." 

With  which  observation  the  Unwiseman  hop- 
ped back  into  his  carpet-bag,  for  the  conductor 

10  H5 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

of  the  train  was  seen  coming  up  the  platform  of 
the  railway  station,  and  the  old  gentleman  as 
usual  was  travelling  without  a  ticket. 

"I'd  rather  be  caught  by  an  English  conductor 
if  I'm  going  to  be  caught  at  all,"  he  remarked 
after  the  train  had  started  and  he  was  safe. 
"For  I  find  in  looking  it  over  that  all  my  talk 
in  French  is  polite  conversation,  and  I  don't 
think  there'd  be  much  chance  for  that  in  a  row 
with  a  conductor  over  a  missing  railway  ticket. " 


IX. 

IN    PARIS 

THE  Unwiseman  was  up  bright  and  early  the 
next  morning.  Mollie  and  Whistlebinkie  had 
barely  got  their  eyes  open  when  he  came  knock- 
ing at  the  door. 

"Better  get  up,  Mollie,"  he  called  in.  "It's 
fine  weather  and  I'm  going  to  call  on  the  Um- 
pire. The  chances  are  that  on  a  beautiful  day 
like  this  he'll  have  a  parade  and  I  wouldn't  miss 
it  for  a  farm." 

"What  Umpire  are  you  talking  about?" 
Mollie  replied,  opening  the  door  on  a  crack. 

"Why  Napoleon  Bonaparte,"  said  the  Un- 
wiseman. "Didn't  you  ever  hear  of  him? 
He's  the  man  that  came  up  here  from  Corsica 
and  picked  the  crown  up  on  the  street  where 
the  king  had  dropped  it  by  mistake,  and  put  it 
on  his  own  head  and  made  people  think  he  was 
the  whole  roil  family.  He  was  smart  enough 
for  an  American  and  I  want  to  tell  him  so." 

"Why  he's  dead,"  said  Mollie. 

147 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

"What?"  cried  the  Unwiseman.  "Umpire 
Napoleon  dead  ?  Why — when  did  that  happen  ? 
I  didn't  see  anything  about  it  in  the  newspapers." 

"He  died  a  long  time  ago,"  answered  Mollie. 
"Before  I  was  born,  I  guess." 

"Well  I  never!"  ejaculated  the  Unwiseman, 
his  face  clouding  over.  "That  book  I  read  on 
the  History  of  France  didn't  say  anything  about 
his  being  dead — that  is,  not  as  far  as  I  got  in  it. 
Last  time  I  heard  of  him  he  was  starting  out  for 
Russia  to  give  the  Czar  a  licking.  I  supposed 
he  thought  it  was  a  good  time  to  do  it  after  the 
Japs  had  started  the  ball  a-rolling.  Are  you 
sure  about  that?" 

"Pretty  sure,"  said  Mollie.  "I  don't  know 
very  much  about  French  history,  but  I'm  almost 
certain  he's  dead." 

"I'm  going  down  stairs  to  ask  at  the  office," 
said  the  Unwiseman.  "They'll  probably  know 
all  about  it." 

So  the  little  old  gentleman  pattered  down  the 
hall  to  the  elevator  and  went  to  the  office  to 
inquire  as  to  the  fate  of  the  Emperor  Napoleon. 
In  five  minutes  he  was  back  again. 

"Say,    Mollie,"    he   whispered   through   the 

148 


IN  PARIS 

key-hole.  "I  wish  you'd  ask  your  father  about 
the  Umpire.  I  can't  seem  to  find  out  anything 
about  him." 

"Don't  they  know  at  the  office?"  asked 
Mollie. 

"Oh  I  guess  they  know  all  right,"  said  the 
Unwiseman,  "but  there's  a  hitch  somewhere  in 
my  getting  the  information.  Far  as  I  can  find 
out  these  people  over  here  don't  understand 
their  own  language.  I  asked  'em  in  French, 
like  this:  'Mounseer  le  Umpire,  est  il  mort?' 
And  they  told  me  he  was  no  more.  Now  whether 
no  more  means  that  he  is  not  mort,  or  is  mort, 
depends  on  what  language  the  man  who  told 
me  was  speaking.  If  he  was  speaking  French 
he's  not  dead.  If  he  was  speaking  English  he 
is  dead,  and  there  you  are.  It's  awfully  mixed 
up." 

"I  -  guess  -  seez  -  ded  -  orright,"  whistled 
Whistlebinkie.  "He  was  dead  last  time  I  heard 
of  him,  and  I  guess  when  they're  dead  once 
there  dead  for  good." 

"Well  you  never  can  tell,"  said  the  Unwise- 
man. "He  was  a  very  great  man,  the  Umpire 
Napoleon  was,  and  they  might  have  only  thought 

149 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

he  was  dead  while  he  was  playing  foxy  to  see 
what  the  newspapers  would  say  about  him." 

So  Mollie  asked  her  father  and  to  the  intense 
regret  of  everybody  it  turned  out  that  the  great 
Emperor  had  been  dead  for  a  long  time. 

"It's  a  very  great  disappointment  to  me," 
sighed  the  Unwiseman,  when  Mollie  conveyed 
the  sad  news  to  him.  "The  minute  I  knew  we 
were  coming  to  France  I  began  to  read  up  about 
the  country,  and  Napoleon  Bonaparte  was  one 
of  the  things  I  came  all  the  way  over  to  see. 
Are  the  Boys  de  Bologna  dead  too?" 

"I  never  heard  of  them,"  said  Mollie. 

"I  feel  particularly  upset  about  the  Umpire," 
continued  the  Unwiseman,  "because  I  sat  up 
almost  all  last  night  getting  up  some  polite  con- 
versation to  be  held  with  him  this  morning. 
I  found  just  the  thing  for  it  in  my  book. " 

"Howdit-go?"  whistled  Whistlebinkie. 

"Like  this,"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "I  was 
going  to  begin  with: 

*Shall  you  buy  a  horse  ?' 

And  the  Umpire  was  to  say: 

*I  should  like  to  buy  a  horse  from  you.' " 
150 


IN  PARIS 
"And  then  we  were  to  continue  with: 

'I  have  no  horse  but  I  will  sell  you  my  dog.' 
'You  are  wrong;   dogs  are  such  faithful  creatures/ 
'But  my  wife  prefers  cats '" 

"Pooh!"  cried  Whistlebinkie.  "You  haven't 
got  any  wife." 

"Well,  what  of  it?"  retorted  the  Unwiseman. 
"The  Umpire  wouldn't  know  that,  and  besides 
she  would  prefer  cats  if  I  had  one.  You  should 
not  interrupt  conversation  when  other  people 
are  talking,  Whistlebinkie,  especially  when  it's 
polite  conversation." 

"  Orright  -  I  -  pol  -  gize, "  whistled  Whistle- 
binkie. "Go  on  with  the  rest  of  it." 

"I  was  then  going  to  say:"  continued  the 
Unwiseman, 

" '  Will  you  go  out  this  afternoon  ?  ' 

'I  should  like  to  go  out  this  afternoon.' 

'  Should  you  remain  here  if  your  mother  were  here  ? ' 

'Yes  I  should  remain  here  even  if  my  aunt  were  here.' 

'Had  you  remained  here  I  should  not  have  gone  out.' 

'I  shall  have  finished  when  you  come.' 

'  As  soon  as  you  have  received  your  money  come  to  see  me.' 

*I  do  not  know  yet  whether  we  shall  leave  to-morrow.' 

'I  should  have  been  afraid  had  you  not  been  with  me.' 

'  So  long.' 

'To  the  river.'  " 

151 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

"  To  the  river  ?  "  asked  Whistlebinkie.  "  What 
does  that  mean?" 

"It  is  French  for,  'I  hope  we  shall  meet  again.' 
Au  river  is  the  polite  way  of  saying,  'good-bye  for 
a  little  while.'  And  to  think  that  after  having 
sat  up  until  five  o'clock  this  morning  learning 
all  that  by  heart  I  should  find  that  the  man  I  was 
going  to  say  it  to  has  been  dead  for — how  many 
years,  Mollie?" 

"Oh  nearly  a  hundred  years,"  said  the  little 
girl. 

"No  wonder  it  wasn't  in  the  papers  before  I 
left  home,"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "Oh  well, 
never  mind ." 

"Perhaps  you  can  swing  that  talk  around  so 
as  to  fit  some  French  Robert,"  suggested 
Whistlebinkie. 

"The  Police  are  not  Roberts  over  here," 
said  the  Unwiseman.  "In  France  they  are 
Johns — John  Darms  is  what  they  call  the 
pleece  in  this  country,  and  I  never  should  think 
of  addressing  a  conversation  designed  for  an 
Umpire  to  the  plebean  ear  of  a  mere  John. " 

"Well  I  think  it  was  pretty  poor  conversa- 
tion," said  Whistlebinkie.  "And  I  guess  it's 

152 


IN  PARIS 

lucky  for  you  the  Umpire  is  dead.  All  that  stuff 
didn't  mean  anything." 

"It  doesn't  seem  to  mean  much  in  English," 
said  the  TJnwiseman,  "but  it  must  mean  some- 
thing in  French,  because  if  it  didn't  the  man 
who  wrote  French  in  Five  Lessons  wouldn't 
have  considered  it  important  enough  to  print. 
Just  because  you  don't  like  a  thing,  or  don't 
happen  to  understand  it,  isn't  any  reason  for 
believing  that  the  Umpire  would  not  find  it 
extremely  interesting.  I  shan't  waste  it  on  a 
John  anyhow." 

An  hour  or  two  later  when  Mollie  had  break- 
fasted the  Unwiseman  presented  himself  again. 

"I'm  very  much  afraid  I'm  not  going  to  like 
this  place  any  better  than  I  did  London,"  he 
said.  "The  English  people,  even  if  they  do  drop 
their  aitches  all  over  everywhere,  understand 
their  own  language,  which  is  more  than  these 
Frenchmen  do.  I  have  tried  my  French  on  half 
a  dozen  of  them  and  there  wasn't  one  of  'em 
that  looked  as  if  he  knew  what  I  was  talking 
about." 

"What  did  you  say  to  them?"  asked  Mollie. 

"Well  I  went  up  to  a  cabman  and  remarked, 

153 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

just  as  the  book  put  it,  'how  is  the  sister  of  your 
mother's  uncle,'  and  he  acted  as  if  I'd  hit  him 
with  a  brick,"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "Then  I 
stopped  a  bright  looking  boy  out  on  the  rue  and 
said  to  him,  '  have  you  seen  the  ormolu  clock  of 
your  sister's  music  teacher,'  to  which  he  should 
have  replied,  'no  I  have  not  seen  the  ormolu 
clock  of  my  sister's  music  teacher,  but  the 
candle-stick  of  the  wife  of  the  butcher  of  my 
cousin's  niece  is  on  the  mantel-piece,'  but  all 
he  did  was  to  stick  out  his  tongue  at  me  and 
laugh." 

'You  ought  to  have  spoken  to  one  of  the 
John  Darms,"  laughed  Whistlebinkie. 

"I  did,"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "I  stopped 
one  out-side  the  door  and  asked  him,  'is  your 
grandfather  still  alive?'  The  book  says  the 
answer  to  that  is  'yes,  and  my  grandmother 
also,'  whereupon  I  should  ask,  'how  many 
grandchildren  has  your  grandfather?'  But  I 
didn't  get  beyond  the  first  question.  Instead 
of  telling  me  that  his  grandfather  was  living, 
and  his  grandmother  also,  he  said  something 
about  Ally  Voozon,  a  person  of  whom  I  never 
heard  and  who  is  not  mentioned  in  the  book  at 

154 


"HAVE  YOU  SEEN  THE  ORMOLU  CLOCK  OP  YOUR  SISTER'S  MUSIC  TEACHER?" 


IN  PARIS 

all.  I  wish  I  was  back  somewhere  where  they 
speak  a  language  somebody  can  understand." 

"Have  you  had  your  breakfast?"  asked 
Mollie. 

A  deep  frown  came  upon  the  face  of  the 
Unwiseman. 

"No—  "  he  answered  shortly.  "  I — er — I  went 
to  get  some  but  they  tried  to  cheat  me, "  he  added. 
"There  was  a  sign  in  a  window  announcing 
French  Tabble  d'hotes.  I  thought  it  was  some 
new  kind  of  a  breakfast  food  like  cracked 
wheat,  or  oat-meal  flakes,  so  I  stopped  in  and 
asked  for  a  small  box  of  it,  and  they  tried  to 
make  me  believe  it  was  a  meal  of  four  or  five 
courses,  with  soup  and  fish  and  a  lot  of  other 
things  thrown  in,  that  had  to  be  eaten  on  the 
premises.  I  wished  for  once  that  I  knew  some 
French  conversation  that  wasn't  polite  to  tell 
'em  what  I  thought  of  'em.  I  can  imagine  a  lot 
of  queer  things,  but  when  everybody  tells  me 
that  oats  are  soup  and  fish  and  olives  and  ice- 
cream and  several  other  things  to  boot,  even  in 
French,  why  I  just  don't  believe  it,  that's  all. 
What's  more  I  can  prove  that  oats  are  oats  over 
here  because  I  saw  a  cab-horse  eating  some.  I 

155 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

may  not  know  beans  but  I  know  oats,  and  I  told 
'em  so.  Then  the  garkon — I  know  why  some 
people  call  these  French  waiters  gasori  now,  they 
talk  so  much — the  garkon  said  I  could  order 
a  la  carte,  and  I  told  him  I  guessed  I  could  if  I 
wanted  to,  but  until  I  was  reduced  to  a  point 
where  I  had  to  eat  out  of  a  wagon  I  wouldn't 
ask  his  permission." 

"  Good-f  or-you !  "whistled  Whistlebinkie,  clap- 
ping the  Unwiseman  on  the  back. 

"When  a  man  wants  five  cents  worth  of  oats 
it's  a  regular  swindle  to  try  to  ram  forty  cents 
worth  of  dinner  down  his  throat,  especially  at 
breakfast  time,  and  I  for  one  just  won't  have  it, " 
said  the  Unwiseman.  "By  the  way,  I  wouldn't 
eat  any  fish  over  here  if  I  were  you,  Mollie," 
he  went  on. 

"Why  not?"  asked  the  little  girl.  "Isn't  it 
fresh?" 

"It  isn't  that,"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "It's 
because  over  here  it's  poison." 

"No!"  cried  Mollie. 

"Yep,"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "They  admit 
it  themselves.  Just  look  here. " 

The  old  gentleman  opened  his  book  on  French 

156 


IN  PARIS 

in  Five  Lessons,  and  turned  to  the  back  pages 
where  English  words  found  their  French  equiv- 
alents. 

"See  that  ?"  he  observed,  pointing  to  the  words. 
"Fish— poison.  P-O-I-double  S-O-N.  'Tain't 
spelled  right,  but  that's  what  it  says." 

"It  certainly  does,"  said  Mollie,  very  much 
surprised. 

"Smity  good  thing  you  had  that  book  or  you 
might  have  been  poisoned,"  said  Whistlebinkie. 

"I  don't  believe  your  father  knows  about 
that,  does  he,  Mollie?"  asked  the  old  man 
anxiously. 

"I'm  afraid  not,"  said  Mollie.  "Least- 
ways, he  hasn't  said  anything  to  me  about  it, 
and  I'm  pretty  sure  if  he'd  known  it  he  would 
have  told  me  not  to  eat  any. " 

"Well  you  tell  him  with  my  compliments," 
said  the  Unwiseman.  "I  like  your  father  and 
I'd  hate  to  have  anything  happen  to  him  that 
I  could  prevent.  I'm  going  up  the  rue  now  to 
the  Loover  to  see  the  pictures." 

"Up  the  what?"  asked  Whistlebinkie. 

"  Up  the  rue, "  said  the  Unwiseman.  "  That's 
what  these  foolish  people  over  here  call  a  street. 

157 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

I'm  going  up  the  street.  There's  a  guide  down 
stairs  who  says  he'll  take  me  all  over  Paris  in 
one  day  for  three  dollars,  and  we're  going  to 
start  in  ten  minutes,  after  I've  had  a  spoonful 
of  my  bottled  chicken  broth  and  a  ginger-snap. 
Humph!  Tabble  d'hotes — when  I've  got  a  bag 
full  of  first  class  food  from  New  York!  I  tell 
you,  Mollie,  this  travelling  around  in  furry 
countries  makes  a  man  depreciate  American 
things  more  than  ever." 

"I  guess  you  mean  appreciate,"  suggested 
Mollie. 

"May  be  I  do,"  returned  the  Unwiseman. 
"I  mean  I  like  'em  better.  American  oats  are 
better  than  tabble  d'hotes.  American  beef  is 
better  than  French  buff.  American  butter  is 
better  than  foreign  burr,  and  while  their  oofs 
are  pretty  good,  when  I  eat  eggs  I  want  eggs,  and 
not  something  else  with  a  hard-boiled  accent  on 
it  that  twists  my  tongue  out  of  shape.  And 
when  people  speak  a  language  I  like  'em  to 
have  one  they  can  understand  when  it's  spoken 
to  them  like  good  old  Yankamerican. " 

"Hoorray  f  or-Ramerrica ! "  cried  Whistle- 
binkie. 

158 


IN  PARIS 

"Ditto  hie,  as  Julius  Csesar  used  to  say," 
roared  the  Unwiseman. 

And  the  Unwiseman  took  what  was  left  of 
his  bottleful  of  their  native  land  out  of  his 
pocket  and  the  three  little  travellers  cheered  it 
until  the  room  fairly  echoed  with  the  noise. 
That  night  when  they  had  gathered  together 
again,  the  Unwiseman  looked  very  tired. 

"Well,  Mollie,"  he  said,  "I've  seen  it  all. 
That  guide  down  stairs  showed  me  everything 
in  the  place  and  I'm  going  to  retire  to  my  car- 
pet-bag again  until  you're  ready  to  start  for 
Kayzoozalum ' ' 

"  Swizz-izzer-land, "    whistled    Whistlebinkie. 

"Switzerland,"  said  Mollie. 

"Well  wherever  it  is  we're  going  Alp  hunting," 
said  the  Unwiseman.  "I'm  too  tired  to  say  a 
word  like  that  to-night.  My  tongue  is  all  out  of 
shape  anyhow  trying  to  talk  French  and  I'm 
not  going  to  speak  it  any  more.  It's  not  the 
sort  of  language  I  admire — just  full  o'  nonsense. 
When  people  call  pudding  'poo-dang'  and  a 
bird  a  'wazzoh'  I'm  through  with  it.  I've  seen 
8374  miles  of  pictures;  some  more  busted 
statuary;  one  cathedral — I  thought  a  cathedral 

159 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

was  some  kind  of  an  animal  with  a  hairy  head 
and  a  hump  on  its  back,  but  it's  nothing  but  a 
big  overgrown  church — ;  Napoleon's  tomb — 
he  is  dead  after  all  and  France  is  a  Republic, 
as  if  we  didn't  have  a  big  enough  Republic 
home  without  coming  over  here  to  see  another — ; 
one  River  Seine,  which  ain't  much  bigger  than 
the  Erie  Canal,  and  not  a  trout  or  a  snapping 
turtle  in  it  from  beginning  to  end;  the  Boys  de 
Bologna,  which  is  only  a  Park,  with  no  boys  or 
sausages  anywhere  about  it;  the  Champs  Eliza; 
an  obelisk;  and  about  sixteen  palaces  without  a 
King  or  an  Umpire  in  the  whole  lot;  and  I've 
paid  three  dollars  for  it,  and  I'm  satisfied.  I'd 
be  better  satisfied  if  I'd  paid  a  dollar  and  a  half, 
but  you  can't  travel  for  nothing,  and  I  regard 
the  extra  dollar  and  fifty  cents  as  well  spent 
since  I've  learned  what  to  do  next  time." 

"Wass-that?"  whistled  Whistlebinkie. 

"  Stay  home, "  said  the  Unwiseman.  "  Home's 
good  enough  for  me  and  when  I  get  there  I'm 
going  to  stay  there.  Good  night. " 

And  with  that  the  Unwiseman  jumped  into 
his  carpet-bag  and  for  a  week  nothing  more 
was  heard  of  him. 

160 


IN  PARIS 

"I  hope  he  isn't  sick,"  said  Whistlebinkie,  at 
the  end  of  that  period.  "I  think  we  ought  to 
go  and  find  out,  don't  you,  Mollie. " 

"I  certainly  do,"  said  Mollie.  "I  know  I 
should  be  just  stufficated  to  death  if  I'd  spent 
a  week  in  a  carpet-bag. " 

So  they  tip-toed  up  to  the  side  of  the  carpet- 
bag and  listened.  At  first  there  was  no  sound 
to  be  heard,  and  then  all  of  a  sudden  their  fears 
were  set  completely  at  rest  by  the  cracked  voice 
of  their  strange  old  friend  singing  the  following 
patriotic  ballad  of  his  own  composition: 

"Next  time  I  start  out  for  to  travel  abroad 

I'll  go  where  pure  English  is  spoken. 
I'll  put  on  my  shoes  and  go  sailing  toward 
The  beautiful  land  of  Hoboken. 

No  more  on  that  movey  old  channel  I'll  sail, 

The  sickening  waves  to  be  tossed  on, 
But  do  all  my  travelling  later  by  rail 

And  visit  that  frigid  old  Boston. 

Nay  never  again  will  I  step  on  a  ship 

And  go  as  a  part  of  the  cargo, 
But  when  I  would  travel  I'll  make  my  next  trip 

Out  west  to  the  town  of  Chicago. 

My  sweet  carpet-bag,  you  will  never  again 

Be  called  on  to  cross  the  Atlantic. 
We'll  just  buy  a  ticket  and  take  the  first  train 

To  marvellous  old  Williamantic. 
11  161 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

No  French  in  the  future  will  I  ever  speak 
With  strange  and  impossible,  answers. 

I'd  rather  go  in  for  that  curious  Greek 
The  natives  all  speak  in  Arkansas. 

To  London  and  Paris  let  other  folks  go 

I'm  utterly  cured  of  the  mania. 
Hereafter  it's  me  for  the  glad  Ohi-o, 

Or  down  in  dear  sweet  Pennsylvania. 

If  any  one  asks  me  to  cross  o'er  the  sea 
I'll  answer  them  promptly,  "No  thanky — 

There's  beauty  enough  all  around  here  for  me 
In  this  glorious  laud  of  the  Yankee." 

Mollie  laughed  as  the  Unwiseman's  voice  died 
away. 

"I  guess  he's  all  right,  Whistlebinkie, "  she 
said.  "Anybody  who  can  sing  like  that  can't 
be  very  sick." 

"No  I  guess  not,"  said  Whistlebinkie.  "He 
seems  to  have  got  his  tongue  out  of  tangle  again. 
I  was  awfully  worried  about  that." 

"Why,  dear?"  asked  Mollie. 

"Because,"  said  Whistlebinkie,  "I  was  afraid 
if  he  didn't  he'd  begin  to  talk  like  me  and  that 
would  be  perf'ly  awful." 


X. 

THE    ALPS   AT   LAST 

WHEN  the  Unwiseman  came  out  of  the  car- 
pet-bag again  the  travellers  had  reached  Switzer- 
land. Every  effort  that  Mollie  and  Whistle- 
binkie  made  to  induce  him  to  come  forth  and 
go  about  Paris  with  them  had  wholly  failed. 

"It's  more  comfortable  in  here,"  he  had 
answered  them,  "and  I've  got  my  hands  full 
forgetting  all  that  useless  French  I  learned  last 
week.  It's  very  curious  how  much  harder  it  is 
to  forget  French  than  it  is  to  learn  it.  I've  been 
four  days  forgetting  that  wazzoh  means  bird  and 
that  oofs  is  eggs." 

"And  you  haven't  forgotten  it  yet,  have  you," 
said  Whistlebinkie. 

"O  yes,"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "I've  for- 
gotten it  entirely.  It  occasionally  occurs  to  me 
that  it  is  so  when  people  mention  the  fact,  but 
in  the  main  I  am  now  able  to  overlook  it.  I'll 
be  glad  when  we  are  on  our  way  again,  Mollie, 
because  between  you  and  me  I  think  they're  a 
lot  of  frauds  here  too,  just  like  over  in  England. 

163 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

They've  got  a  statue  here  of  a  lady  named  Miss 
Jones  of  Ark  and  I  know  there  wasn't  any  such 
person  on  it.  Shem  and  Ham  and  Japhet  and 
their  wives,  and  Noah,  and  Mrs.  Noah  were 
there  but  no  Miss  Jones." 

"Maybe  Mrs.  Noah  or  Mrs.  Shem  or  one  of 
the  others  was  Miss  Jones  before  she  married 
Mr.  Noah  or  Shem,  Ham  or  Japhet,"  suggested 
Whistlebinkie. 

"Then  they  should  ought  to  have  said  so," 
said  the  Unwiseman,  "and  put  up  the  statue  to 
Mrs.  Noah  or  Mrs.  Shem  or  Mrs.  Ham  or  Mrs. 
Japhet — but  they  weren't  the  same  person  be- 
cause this  Miss  Jones  got  burnt  cooking  a  steak 
and  Mrs.  Noah  and  Mrs.  Ham  and  Mrs.  Shem 
and  Mrs.  Japhet  didn't.  Miss  Jones  was  a  great 
general  according  to  these  people  and  there 
wasn't  any  military  at  all  in  the  time  of  Noah  for 
a  lady  to  be  general  of,  so  the  thing  just  can't 
help  being  a  put  up  job  just  to  deceive  us  Amer- 
icans into  coming  over  here  to  see  their  curiosi- 
ties and  paying  guides  three  dollars  for  leading 
us  to  them." 

"Then  vou  won't   come  with  us  out   to  Ver- 

* 

sailles  ?"  asked  Mollie  very  much  disappointed. 

164 


THE  ALPS  AT  LAST 

"  Versailles  ?"  asked  the  TJnwiseman.  "  What 
kind  of  sails  are  Versailles?  Some  kind  of  a 
French  cat-boat?  If  so,  none  of  that  for  me. 
I'm  not  fond  of  sailing." 

"It's  a  town  with  a  beautiful  palace  in  it," 
explained  Mollie. 

"That  settles  it,"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "I'll 
stay  here.  I've  seen  all  the  palaces  without  any 
kings  in  'em  that  I  need  in  my  business,  so  you 
can  just  count  me  out.  I  may  go  out  shopping 
this  afternoon  and  buy  an  air-gun  to  shoot  alps 
with  when  we  get  to — ha — hum " 

"Switzerland,"  prompted  Mollie  hurriedly, 
largely  with  the  desire  to  keep  Whistlebinkie 
from  speaking  of  Swiz-izzer-land. 

"Precisely,"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "If  you'd 
given  me  time  I'd  have  said  it  myself.  I've  been 
practising  on  that  name  ever  since  yesterday 
and  I've  got  so  I  can  say  it  right  five  times  out  of 
'leven.  And  I'm  learning  to  yodel  too.  I  have 
discovered  that  down  in — ha — hum — Swztooza- 
lum,  when  people  don't  feel  like  speaking  French, 
they  yodel,  and  I  think  I  can  get  along  better  in 
yodeling  than  I  can  in  French.  I'm  going  to  try 
it  anyhow.  So  run  along  and  have  a  good  time 

165 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

and  don't  worry  about  me.  I'm  having  a  fine 
time.  Yodeling  is  really  lots  of  fun.  Trala- 
la-lio!" 

So  Mollie  and  Whistlebinkie  went  to  Ver- 
sailles, which  by  the  way  is  not  pronounced  Ver- 
sails,  but  Ver-sai-ee,  and  left  the  Unwiseman  to 
his  own  devices.  A  week  later  the  party  arrived 
at  Chamounix,  a  beautiful  little  Swiss  village 
lying  in  the  valley  at  the  base  of  Mont  Blanc, 
the  most  famous  of  all  the  Alps. 

"  Looks-slike-a-gray-big-snow-ball,"  whistled 
Whistlebinkie,  gazing  admiringly  at  the  wonder- 
ful mountain  glistening  like  a  huge  mass  of  silver 
in  the  sunlight. 

"It  is  beautiful,"  said  Mollie.  "We  must  get 
the  Unwiseman  out  to  see  it." 

"I'll  call  him,"  said  Whistlebinkie  eagerly; 
and  the  little  rubber-doll  bounded  off  to  the  car- 
pet-bag as  fast  as  his  legs  would  carry  him. 

"Hi  there,  Mister  Me,"  he  called  breathlessly 
through  the  key-hole.  "  Come  out.  There's  a 
nalp  out  in  front  of  the  hotel." 

"Tra-la-lulio-tra-la-lali-ee,"  yodeled  the 
cracked  little  voice  from  within.  "  Tra-la-la-la- 
lalio." 

166 


THE  ALPS  AT  LAST 

"Hullo  there,"  cried  Whistlebinkie  again. 
"  Stop  that  tra-la-lody-ing  and  hurry  out,  there's 
a-nalp  in  front  of  the  hotel." 

"A  nalp?"  said  the  Unwiseman  popping  his 
head  up  from  the  middle  of  the  bag  for  all  the 
world  like  a  Jack-in-the-box.  "  What's  a  nalp  ?" 

"A-alp,"  explained  Whistlebinkie,  as  clearly 
as  he  could — he  was  so  out  of  breath  he  could 
hardly  squeak,  much  less  speak. 

"  Really  ?"  cried  the  Unwiseman,  all  excitement. 
"Dear  me — glad  you  called  me.  Is  he  loose?" 

"Well,"  hesitated  Whistlebinkie,  hardly  know- 
ing how  to  answer,  "  it-ain't-exactly-tied  up,  I 
guess." 

"Ain't  any  danger  of  its  coming  into  the  house 
and  biting  people,  is  there  ?"  asked  the  Unwise- 
man, rummaging  through  the  carpet-bag  for  his 
air-gun,  which  he  had  purchased  in  Paris  while 
the  others  were  visiting  Versailles. 

"No,"  laughed  Whistlebinkie.     "Tstoo-big." 

"Mercy — it  must  be  a  fearful  big  one,"  said 
the  Unwiseman.  "I  hope  it's  muzzled." 

Armed  with  his  air-gun,  and  carrying  a  long 
rope  with  a  noose  in  one  end  over  his  arm,  the 
Unwiseman  started  out. 

167 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

"  Watcher-gone-'tdo-with-the-lassoo  ?"  panted 
Whistlebinkie,  struggling  manfully  to  keep  up 
with  his  companion. 

"That's  to  tie  him  up  with  in  case  I  catch  him 
alive,"  said  the  TJnwiseman,  as  they  emerged 
from  the  door  of  the  hotel  and  stood  upon  the 
little  hotel  piazza  from  which  all  the  new  arrivals 
were  gazing  at  the  wonderful  peak  before 
them,  rising  over  sixteen  thousand  feet  into 
the  heavens,  and  capped  forever  with  a  crown 
of  snow  and  ice. 

"Out  the  way  there!"  cried  the  TJnwiseman, 
rushing  valiantly  through  the  group.  "  Out  the 
way,  and  don't  talk  or  even  yodel.  I  must  have 
a  steady  aim,  and  conversation  disturbs  my 


nerves." 


The  hotel  guests  all  stepped  hastily  to  one  side 
and  made  room  for  the  hero,  who  on  reaching 
the  edge  of  the  piazza  stopped  short  and  gazed 
about  him  with  a  puzzled  look  on  his  face. 

"Well,"  he  cried  impatiently,  "where  is 
he?" 

"Where  is  what?"  asked  Mollie,  stepping  up 
to  the  Unwiseman's  side  and  putting  her  hand 
affectionately  on  his  shoulder. 

168 


"OUT  THE  WAY  THERE!"  CRIED  THE  UNWISEMAN 


THE  ALPS  AT  LAST 

"That  Alp?"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "Whis- 
tlebinkie  said  there  was  an  alp  running  around 
the  yard  and  I've  come  down  either  to  catch  him 
alive  or  shoot  him.  He  hasn't  hid  under  this 
piazza,  has  he?" 

"No,  Mr.  Me,"  she  said.  "They  couldn't 
get  an  Alp  under  this  piazza.  That's  it  over 
there,"  she  added,  pointing  out  Mont  Blanc. 

"What's  it?  I  don't  see  anything  but  a  big 
snow  drift,"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "Queer  sort 
of  people  here — must  be  awful  lazy  not  to  have 
their  snow  shoveled  off  as  late  as  July." 

"That's  the  Alp,"  explained  Mollie. 

"  Tra-la-lolly-O !"  yodeled  the  Unwiseman. 
"Which  is  yodelese  for  nonsense.  That  an 
Alp  ?  Why  I  thought  an  Alp  was  a  sort  of  ani- 
mal with  a  shaggy  fur  coat  like  a  bear  or  a  chauf- 
feur, and  about  the  size  of  a  rhinoceros." 

"No,"  said  Mollie.  "An  Alp  is  a  mountain. 
All  that  big  range  of  mountains  with  snow  and 
ice  on  top  of  them  are  the  Alps.  Didn't  you 
know  that?" 

The  Unwiseman  didn't  answer,  but  with  a 
yodel  of  disgust  turned  on  his  heel  and  went  back 
to  his  carpet-bag. 

169 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

'You  aren't  mad  at  me,  are  you,  Mr.  Me?" 
asked  Mollie,  following  meekly  after. 

"No  indeed,"  said  the  Unwisman,  sadly.  " Of 
course  not.  It  isn't  your  fault  if  an  Alp  is  a 
toboggan  slide  or  a  skating  rink  instead  of  a 
wild  animal.  It's  all  my  own  fault.  I  was  very 
careless  to  come  over  here  and  waste  my  time  to 
see  a  lot  of  snow  that  ain't  any  colder  or  wetter 
than  the  stuff  we  have  delivered  at  our  front 
doors  at  home  in  winter.  I  should  ought  to  have 
found  out  what  it  was  before  I  came." 

"It's  very  beautiful  though  as  it  is,"  suggested 
Mollie. 

"I  suppose  so,"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "But 
I  don't  have  to  travel  four  thousand  miles  to  see 
beautiful  things  while  I  have  my  kitchen-stove 
right  there  in  my  own  kitchen.  Besides  I've 
spent  a  dollar  and  twenty  cents  on  an  air-gun, 
and  sixty  cents  for  a  lassoo  to  hunt  Alps  with, 
when  I  might  better  have  bought  a  snow  shovel. 
That's  really  what  I'm  mad  at.  If  I'd  bought  a 
snow  shovel  and  a  pair  of  ear-tabs  I  could  have 
made  some  money  here  offering  to  shovel  the 
snow  off  that  hill  there  so's  somebody  could  get 
some  pleasure  out  of  it.  It  would  be  a  lovely 

170 


THE  ALPS  AT  LAST 

place  to  go  and  sit  on  a  warm  summer  evening 
if  it  wasn't  for  that  snow  and  very  likely  they'd 
have  paid  me  two  or  three  dollars  for  fixing  it  up 
for  them." 

"I  guess  it  would  take  you  several  hours  to  do 
it,"  said  Whistlebinkie. 

"What  if  it  took  a  week?"  retorted  the  TJn- 
wiseman.  "As  long  as  they  were  willing  to  pay 
for  it.  But  what's  the  use  of  talking  about  it  ? 
I  haven't  got  a  shovel,  and  I  can't  shovel  the 
snow  off  an  Alp  with  an  air-gun,  so  that's  the 
end  of  it." 

And  for  the  time  being  that  was  the  end  of  it. 
The  Unwiseman  very  properly  confined  himself 
to  the  quiet  of  the  carpet-bag  until  his  wrath 
had  entirely  disappeared,  and  after  luncheon 
he  turned  up  cheerily  in  the  office  of  the  hotel. 

"Let's  hire  a  couple  of  sleds  and  go  coasting," 
he  suggested  to  Mollie.  "That  Mount  Blank 
looks  like  a  pretty  good  hill.  Whistlebinkie 
and  I  can  pull  you  up  to  the  top  and  it  will  be  a 
fine  slide  coming  back." 

But  inquiry  at  the  office  brought  out  the  extra- 
ordinary fact  that  there  were  no  sleds  in  the  place 
and  never  had  been. 

171 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

"My  goodness!"  ejaculated  the  Unwiseman. 
"I  never  knew  such  people.  I  don't  wonder 
these  Switzers  ain't  a  great  nation  like  us  Ameri- 
cans. I  don't  believe  any  American  hotel- 
keeper  would  have  as  much  snow  as  that  in  his 
back-yard  all  summer  long  and  not  have  a  regu- 
lar sled  company  to  accommodate  guests  who 
wanted  to  go  coasting  on  it.  If  they  had  an  Alp 
like  that  over  at  Atlantic  City  they'd  build  a 
fence  around  it,  and  charge  ten  cents  to  get  in- 
side, where  you  could  hire  a  colored  gentleman 
to  haul  you  up  to  the  top  of  the  hill  and  guide  you 
down  again  on  the  return  slide." 

"I  guess  they  would,"  said  Whistlebinkie. 

"Then  they'd  turn  part  of  it  into  an  ice  quar- 
ry," the  Unwiseman  went  on,  "and  sell  great 
huge  chunks  of  ice  to  people  all  the  year  round 
and  put  the  regular  ice  men  out  of  business.  I've 
half  a  mind  to  write  home  to  my  burgular  and 
tell  him  here's  a  chance  to  earn  an  honest  living 
as  an  iceman.  He  could  get  up  a  company  to 
come  here  and  buy  up  that  hill  and  just  regu- 
larly go  in  for  ice-mining.  There  never  was 
such  a  chance.  If  people  can  make  money  out 
of  coal  mines  and  gold  mines  and  copper  mines, 


172 


THE  ALPS  AT  LAST 

I  don't  see  why  they  can't  do  the  same  thing  with 
ice  mines.  Why  don't  you  speak  to  your  Papa 
about  it,  Mollie?  He'd  make  his  everlasting 
fortune." 

"I  will,"  said  Mollie,  very  much  interested  in 
the  idea. 

"And  all  that  snow  up  there  going  to  waste 
too,"  continued  the  Unwiseman  growing  enthu- 
siastic over  the  prospect.  "  Just  think  of  the  mil- 
lions of  people  who  can't  get  cool  in  summer  over 
home.  Your  father  could  sell  snow  to  people 
in  mid-summer  for  six-fifty  a  ton,  and  they  could 
shovel  it  into  their  furnaces  and  cool  off  their 
homes  ten  or  twenty  degrees  all  summer  long. 
My  goodness — talk  about  your  billionaires — 
here's  a  chance  for  squillions." 

The  Unwiseman  paced  the  floor  excitedly. 
The  vision  of  wealth  that  loomed  up  before  his 
mind's  eye  was  so  vast  that  he  could  hardly  con- 
tain himself  in  the  face  of  it. 

"Wouldn't  it  all  melt  before  he  could  get  it 
over  to  America?"  asked  Mollie. 

; 'Why  should  it  ?"  demanded  the  Unwiseman. 
"  If  it'don't  melt  here  in  summer  time  why  should 
it  melt  anywhere  else?  I  don't  believe  snow 

173 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

was  ever  disagreeable  just  for  the  pleasure  of 
being  so." 

"Wouldn't  it  cost  a  lot  to  take  it  over?" 
asked  Whistlebinkie. 

"Not  if  the  Company  owned  its  own 
ships,"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "If  the  Com- 
pany owned  its  own  ships  it  could  carry  it  over 
for  nothing." 

The  Unwiseman  was  so  carried  away  with  the 
possibilities  of  his  plan  that  for  several  days  he 
could  talk  of  nothing  else,  and  several  times 
Mollie  and  Whistlebinkie  found  him  working 
in  the  writing  room  of  the  hotel  on  what  he 
called  his  Perspectus. 

"I'm  going  to  work  out  that  idea  of  mine, 
Mollie,"  he  explained,  "so  that  you  can  show 
it  to  your  father  and  maybe  he'll  take  it  up,  and 
if  he  does — well,  I'll  have  a  man  to  exercise  my 
umbrella,  a  pair  of  wings  built  on  my  house 
where  I  can  put  a  music  room  and  a  library, 
and  have  my  kitchen-stove  nickel  plated  as  it 
deserves  to  be  for  having  served  me  so  faith- 
fully for  so  many  years." 

An  hour  or  two  later,  his  face  beaming  with 
pleasure,  the  Unwiseman  brought  Mollie  his 

174 


THE  ALPS  AT  LAST 

completed  "Perspectus"  with  the  request  that 
she  show  it  to  her  father.    It  read  as  follows: 

THE  SWITZER  SNOW  AND  ICE  CO. 

THE  UNWISEMAN,  President. 

MR.  MOLLIE  J.  WHISTLEBINKIE,  V ice-President. 

A.  BURGULAR,  Seketary  and  Treasurer. 

I.  To  purchase  all  right,  title,  and  interest  in  one  first 
class  Alp  known  as  Mount  Blank,  a  snow-clad  peak  located 
at  Switzerville,  Europe.     For  further  perticulars,  see  Map  if 
you  have  one  handy  that  is  any  good  and  has  been  prepared 
by  somebody  what  has  studied  jography  before. 

II.  To  orginize  the  Mount  Blank  Toboggan  Slide  and 
Sled  Company  and  build  a  fence  around  it  for  the  benefit  of 
the  young  at  ten  cents  ahead,  using  the  surplus  snow  and  ice 
on  Mount  Blank  for  this  purpose.     Midsummer  coasting  a 
speciality. 

III.  To  mine  ice  and  to  sell  the  same  by  the  pound,  ton, 
yard,  or  shipload,  to  Americans  at  one  cent  less  a  pound,  ton, 
yard,  or  shipload,  than  they  are  now  paying  to  unscrupulous 
ice-men  at  home,  thereby  putting  them  out  of  business  and 
bringing  ice  in  midsummer  within  the  reach  of  persons  of 
modest  means  to  keep  their  provisions  on,  who  without  it 
suffer  greatly  from  the  heat  and  are  sometimes  sun-struck. 

IV.  To  gather  and  sell  snow  to  the  American  people  in 
summer  time  for  the  purpose  of  cooling  oft7  their  houses  by 
throwing  the  same  into  the  furnace  like  coal  in  winter,  thereby 
taking  down  the  thermometer  two  or  three  inches  and  making 
fans    unnecessary,    and    killing    mosquitoes,    flies    and    other 
animals  that  ain't  of  any  use  and  can  only  live  in  warm  weather. 

V.  Also  to  sell  a  finer  quality  of  snow  for  use  at  children's 
parties  in  the  United  States  of  America  in  July  and  August 

175 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

where  snow-ball  fights  are  not  now  possible  owing  to  the  extreme 
tenderness  of  the  snow  at  present  provided  by  the  American 
climate  which  causes  it  to  melt  along  about  the  end  of  March 
and  disappear  entirely  before  the  beginning  of  May. 

VI.  Also  to  sell  snow  at  redoosed  rates  to  people  at  Christ- 
mas Time  when  they  don't  always  have  it  as  they  should  ought 
to  have  if  Christmas  is  to  look  anything  like  the  real  thing  and 
give  boys  and  girls  a  chance  to  try  their  new  sleds  and  see  if 
they  are  as  good  as  they  are  cracked  up  to  be  instead  of  having 
to  be  put  away  as  they  sometimes  are  until  February  and  even 
then  it  don't  always  last. 

This  Company  has  already  been  formed  by  Mr.  Thomas 
S.  Me,  better  known  as  the  Unwiseman,  who  is  hereby  elected 
President  thereof,  with  a  capital  of  ten  million  dollars  of  which 
three  dollars  has  already  been  paid  in  to  Mr.  Me  as  temporary 
treasurer  by  himself  in  real  money  which  may  be  seen  upon 
application  as  a  guarantee  of  good  faith.  The  remaining  nine 
million  nine  hundred  and  ninety-nine  thousand,  nine  hundred 
and  ninty-seven  dollars  worth  is  offered  to  the  public  at  one 
dollar  a  share  payable  in  any  kind  of  money  that  will  circulate 
freely,  one  half  of  which  will  be  used  as  profits  for  the  next 
five  years  while  the  Company  is  getting  used  to  its  new  busi- 
ness, and  the  rest  will  be  spent  under  the  direction  of  the 
President  as  he  sees  fit,  it  being  understood  that  none  of 
it  shall  be  used  to  buy  eclairs  or  other  personal  property  with. 

"There,"  said  the  Unwiseman,  as  he  finished 
the  prospectus.  "Just  you  hand  that  over  to 
your  father,  Mollie,  and  see  what  he  says.  If 
he  don't  start  the  ball  a-rolling  and  buy  that  old 
Mountain  before  we  leave  this  place  I  shall  be 
very  much  surprised." 

176 


THE  ALPS  AT  LAST 

But  the  Unwiseman's  grand  scheme  never 
went  through  for  Mollie's  father  upon  inquiry 
found  that  noboby  about  Chamounix  cared  to 
sell  his  interest  in  the  mountain,  or  even  to  sug- 
gest a  price  for  it. 

"They're  afraid  to  sell  it  I  imagine,"  said 
Mollie's  father,  "for  fear  the  new  purchasers 
would  dig  it  up  altogether  and  take  it  over  to 
the  United  States.  You  see  if  that  were  to  hap- 
pen it  would  leave  an  awfully  big  hole  in  the  place 
where  Mount  Blank  used  to  be  and  there'd  be 
a  lot  of  trouble  getting  it  filled  in. " 

For  all  of  which  I  am  sincerely  sorry  because 
there  are  times  in  midsummer  in  America 
when  I  would  give  a  great  deal  if  some  such 
enterprise  as  a  "  Switzer  Snow  &  Ice  Co. "  would 
dump  a  few  tons  of  snow  into  my  cellar  for  use 
in  the  furnace. 


XI. 

THE    TJNWISEMAN    PLANS    A    CHAMOIS    COMPANY 

THE  Unwiseman's  disappointment  over  the 
failure  of  his  Switzer  Snow  &  Ice  Company 
was  very  keen  at  first  and  the  strange  old 
gentleman  was  inclined  to  be  as  thoroughly 
disgusted  with  Switzerland  as  he  had  been  with 
London  and  Paris.  He  was  especially  put  out 
when,  after  travelling  seven  or  eight  miles  to  see 
a  "glazier,"  as  he  called  it,  he  discovered  that  a 
glacier  was  not  a  frozen  "window-pane  mender" 
but  a  stream  of  ice  flowing  perennially  down 
from  the  Alpine  summits  into  the  valleys. 

"They  bank  too  much  on  their  snow-drifts 
over  here,"  he  remarked,  after  he  had  visited 
the  Mer-de-Glace.  "  I  wouldn't  give  seven  cents 
to  see  a  thing  like  that  when  I've  been  brought 
up  close  to  New  York  where  we  have  blizzards 
every  once  in  a  while  that  tie  up  the  whole  city 
till  it  looks  like  one  glorious  big  snow-ball  fight." 

And  then  when  he  wanted  to  go  fishing  in  one 
of  the  big  fissures  of  the  glacier,  and  was  told 

178 


PLANS  A  CHAMOIS  COMPANY 

he  could  drop  a  million  lines  down  there  with- 
out getting  a  bite  of  any  kind  he  announced  his 
intention  of  getting  out  of  the  country  as  soon 
as  he  possibly  could.  But  after  all  the  Unwise- 
man  had  a  naturally  sun-shiny  disposition  and 
this  added  to  the  wonderful  air  of  Switzerland, 
which  in  itself  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  things 
in  a  beautiful  world,  soon  brought  him  out  of  his 
sulky  fit  and  set  him  to  yodeling  once  more  as 
gaily  as  a  Swiss  Mountain  boy.  He  began  to 
see  some  of  the  beauties  of  the  country  and  his 
active  little  mind  was  not  slow  at  discovering 
advantages  not  always  clear  to  people  with  less 
inquisitiveness. 

"I  should  think,"  he  observed  to  Mollie  one 
morning  as  he  gazed  up  at  Mount  Blanc's  pure 
white  summit,  "that  this  would  be  a  great  ice- 
cream country.  I'd  like  to  try  the  experiment 
of  pasturing  a  lot  of  fine  Jersey  cows  up  on  those 
ice-fields.  Just  let  'em  browze  around  one  of 
those  glaciers  every  day  for  a  week  and  give 
'em  a  cupful  of  vanilla,  or  chocolate  extract  or 
a  strawberry  once  in  a  while  and  see  if  they 
wouldn't  give  ice-cream  instead  o'  milk.  It 
would  be  worth  trying,  anyhow. " 

179 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

Mollie  thought  it  would  and  Whistlebinkie 
gave  voice  to  a  long  low  whistle  of  delight  at 
the  idea. 

"It  -  ud  -  be  -  bettern  -  soder  -  watter  -  rany- 
way!"  he  whistled. 

"Anything  would  be  better  than  soda  water," 
said  the  Unwiseman,  who  had  only  tried  it  once 
and  got  nothing  but  the  bubbles.  "  Soda  water's 
too  foamy  for  me.  It's  like  drinking  whipped 


But  the  thing  that  pleased  the  Unwiseman 
more  than  anything  else  was  a  pet  chamois  that 
he  encountered  at  a  little  Swiss  Chalet  on  one  of 
his  tours  of  investigation.  It  was  a  cunning 
little  animal,  very  timid  of  course,  like  a  fawn, 
but  tame,  and  for  some  reason  or  other  it  took 
quite  a  fancy  to  the  Unwiseman — possibly 
because  he  looked  so  like  a  Swiss  Mountain 
Boy  with  a  peaked  cap  he  had  purchased,  and 
ribbons  wound  criss-cross  around  his  calves  and 
his  magnificent  Alpen-stock  upon  which  had 
been  burned  the  names  of  all  the  Alps  he  had 
not  climbed.  And  then  the  Unwiseman's  yodel 
had  become  something  unusually  fine  and 
original  in  the  line  of  yodeling,  which  may  have 

180 


PLANS  A  CHAMOIS  COMPANY 

attracted  the  chamois  and  made  him  feel  that 
the  Unwiseman  was  a  person  to  be  trusted. 
At  any  rate  the  little  animal  instead  of  running 
away  and  jumping  from  crag  to  crag  at  the 
Unwiseman's  approach,  as  most  chamois  would 
do,  came  inquiringly  up  to  him  and  stuck  out 
its  soft  velvety  nose  to  be  scratched,  and  per- 
mitted the  Unwiseman  to  inspect  its  horns  and 
silky  chestnut-brown  coat  as  if  it  recognized  in 
the  little  old  man  a  true  and  tried  friend  of  long 
standing. 

"Why  you  little  beauty  you!"  cried  the  Un- 
wiseman, as  he  sat  on  the  fence  and  stroked  the 
beautiful  creature's  neck.  "So  you're  what  they 
call  a  shammy,  eh?" 

The  chamois  turned  its  lovely  eyes  upon  his 
new  found  friend,  and  then  lowered  his  head 
to  have  it  scratched  again. 

"Mary  had  a  little  sham 

Whose  hide  was  soft  as  cotton, 
And  everywhere  that  Mary  went 
The  shammy  too  went  trottin'. " 

sang  the  Unwiseman,  dropping  into  poetry  as 
was  one  of  his  habits  when  he  was  deeply 
moved. 

181 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

The  chamois  evidently  liked  this  verse  for 
its  eyes  twinkled  and  it  laid  its  head  gently  on 
the  Unwiseman's  knee  and  looked  at  him 
appealingly  as  if  to  say,  "More  of  that  poetry 
please.  You  are  a  bard  after  my  own  heart." 
So  the  Unwiseman  went  on,  keeping  time  to  his 
verse  by  slight  taps  on  the  chamois'  nose. 

"It  followed  her  to  town  one  day 

Unto  the  Country  Fair, 
And  earned  five  hundred  dollars  just 
In  shining  silver-ware. " 

Whistlebinkie  indulged  in  a  loud  whistle  of 
mirth  at  this,  which  so  startled  the  little  creature 
that  it  leapt  backward  fifteen  feet  in  the  air 
and  landed  on  top  of  a  small  pump  at  the  rear 
of  the  yard,  and  stood  there  poised  on  its  four 
feet  just  like  the  chamois  we  see  in  pictures 
standing  on  a  sharp  peak  miles  up  in  the  air, 
trembling  just  a  little  for  fear  that  Whistle- 
binkie's  squeak  would  be  repeated.  A  moment 
of  silence  seemed  to  cure  this,  however,  for  in 
less  than  two  minutes  it  was  back  again  at  the 
Unwiseman's  side  gazing  soulfully  at  him  as  if 
demanding  yet  another  verse.  Of  course  the 
Unwiseman  could  not  resist— he  never  could 

182 


THE   CHAMOIS    EVIDENTLY    LIKED    THIS   VERSE   FOR   ITS    EYES   TWINKLED 


PLANS  A  CHAMOIS  COMPANY 

when   people   demanded   poetry  from   him,   it 
came  so  very  easy — and  so  he  continued: 

"The  children  at  the  Country  Fair 

Indulged  in  merry  squawks 
To  see  the  shammy  polishing 
The  family  knives  and  forks. 

The  tablespoons,  and  coffee  pots, 

The  platters  and  tureens, 
The  top  of  the  mahogany, 

And  crystal  fire-screens." 

"More!"  pleaded  the  chamois  with  his  soft 
eyes,  snuggling  its  head  close  into  the  Unwise- 
man's  lap,  and  the  old  gentleman  went  on: 

"  *  O  isn't  he  a  wondrous  kid!' 

The  wondering  children  cried. 
We  didn't  know  a  shammy  could 
Do  such  things  if  he  tried. 

And  Mary  answered  with  a  smile 

That  dimpled  up  her  chin, 
*  There's  much  that  shammy's  cannot  do, 
But  much  that  shammy-skin.'" 

Whistlebinkie's  behavior  at  this  point  became 
so  utterly  and  inexcusably  boisterous  with  mirth 
that  the  confiding  little  chamois  was  again 
frightened  away  and  this  time  it  gave  three 
rapid  leaps  into  the  air  which  landed  it  ulti- 
mately upon  the  ridge-pole  of  the  chalet,  from 

183 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

which  it  wholly  refused  to  descend,  in  spite  of 
all  the  persuasion  in  the  world,  for  the  rest  of 
the  afternoon. 

"Very  intelligent  little  animal  that,"  said  the 
Unwiseman,  as  he  trudged  his  way  home.  "A 
very  high  appreciation  of  true  poetry,  inclined 
to  make  friendship  with  the  worthy,  and  properly 
mistrustful  of  people  full  of  strange  noises  and 
squeaks." 

"He  was  awfully  pretty,  wasn't  he,"  said 
Mollie. 

"Yes,  but  he  was  better  than  pretty, "  observed 
the  Unwiseman.  "He  could  be  made  useful. 
Things  that  are  only  pretty  are  all  very  well  in 
their  way,  but  give  me  the  useful  things — like 
my  kitchen-stove  for  instance.  If  that  kitchen- 
stove  was  only  pretty  do  you  suppose  I'd  love  it 
the  way  I  do  ?  Not  at  all.  I'd  just  put  it  on  the 
mantel-piece,  or  on  the  piano  in  my  parlor  and 
never  think  of  it  a  second  time,  but  because  it 
is  useful  I  pay  attention  to  it  every  day,  polish 
it  with  stove  polish,  feed  it  with  coal  and  see 
that  the  ashes  are  removed  from  it  when  its 
day's  work  is  done.  Nobody  ever  thinks  of 
doing  such  things  with  a  plain  piece  of  bric-a- 

184 


PLANS  A  CHAMOIS  COMPANY 

brae  that  can't  be  used  for  anything  at  all. 
You  don't  put  any  coal  or  stove  polish  on  that 
big  Chinese  vase  you  have  in  your  parlor,  do 
you?" 

"No,"  said  Mollie,  "of  course  not." 

"And  I'll  warrant  that  in  all  the  time  you've 
had  that  opal  glass  jug  on  the  mantel-piece  of 
your  library  you  never  shook  the  ashes  down  in 
it  once,"  said  the  Unwiseman. 

"  Mity  -  goo  -  dreeson  -  wy !"  whistled  Whistle- 
binkie.  "They-ain't  never  no  ashes  in  it." 

"  Correct  though  ungrammatically  expressed, " 
observed  the  Unwiseman.  "There  never  are 
any  ashes  in  it  to  be  shaken  down,  which  is  a 
pretty  good  reason  to  believe  that  it  is  never 
used  to  fry  potatoes  on  or  to  cook  a  chop  with, 
or  to  roast  a  turkey  in — which  proves  exactly 
what  I  say  that  it  is  only  pretty  and  isn't  half  as 
useful  as  my  kitchen-stove. " 

"It  would  be  pretty  hard  to  find  anything 
useful  for  the  bric-a-brac  to  do  though,"  sug- 
gested Mollie,  who  loved  pretty  things  whether 
they  had  any  other  use  or  not. 

"It  all  depends  on  your  bric-a-brac,"  said  the 
Unwiseman.  "I  can  find  plenty  of  useful 

185 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

things  for  mine  to  do.  There's  my  coal  scuttle 
for  instance — it  works  all  the  time." 

"  Coal-scuttles  ain't  bric-a-brac, "  said  Whistle- 
binkie. 

"My  coal  scuttle  is,"  said  the  Unwiseman. 
"It's  got  a  picture  of  a  daisy  painted  on  one  side 
of  it,  and  I  gilded  the  handle  myself.  Then 
there's  my  watering  pot.  That's  just  as  bric-a- 
bracky  as  any  Chinese  china  pot  that  ever  lived, 
but  it's  useful.  I  use  it  to  water  the  flowers  in 
summer,  and  to  sift  my  lump  sugar  through  in 
winter.  Every  pound  of  lump  sugar  you  buy 
has  some  fine  sugar  with  it  and  if  you  shake  the 
lump  sugar  up  in  a  watering  pot  and  let  the  fine 
sugar  sift  through  the  nozzle  you  get  two  kinds  of 
sugar  for  the  price  of  one.  So  it  goes  all  through 
my  house  from  my  piano  to  my  old  beaver  hat — 
every  bit  of  my  bric-a-brac  is  useful. " 

"Wattonearth  do  -  you  -  do  with  a  -  nold  - 
beevor-at?"  whistled  Whistlebinkie. 

"I  use  it  as  a  post-office  box  to  mail  cross 
letters  in,"  said  the  Unwiseman  gravely.  "It's 
saved  me  lots  of  trouble." 

"Cross  letters?"  asked  Mollie.  "You  never 
write  cross  letters  to  anybody  do  you?" 

188 


PLANS  A  CHAMOIS  COMPANY 

"I'm  doing  it  all  the  time,"  said  the  Unwise- 
man. "Whenever  anything  happens  that  I 
don't  like  I  sit  down  and  write  a  terrible  letter 
to  the  people  that  do  it.  That  eases  off  my  feel- 
ings, and  then  I  mail  the  letters  in  the  hat." 

"And  does  the  Post-man  come  and  get  them  ?" 
asked  Mollie. 

"No  indeed,"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "That's 
where  the  beauty  of  the  scheme  conies  in.  If  I 
mailed  'em  in  the  post-office  box  on  the  lamp- 
post, the  post-man  would  take  'em  and  deliver 
them  to  the  man  they're  addressed  to  and  I'd 
be  in  all  sorts  of  trouble.  But  when  I  mail  them 
in  my  hat  nobody  comes  for  them  and  nobody 
gets  them,  and  so  there's  no  trouble  for  any- 
body anywhere." 

"But  what  becomes  of  them?"  asked  Mollie. 

"I  empty  the  hat  on  the  first  Tuesday  after 
the  first  Monday  of  every  month  and  use  them 
for  kindling  in  my  kitchen-stove,"  said  the 
Unwiseman.  "It's  a  fine  scheme.  I  keep  out 
of  trouble,  don't  have  to  buy  so  much  kindling 
wood,  and  save  postage." 

"That  sounds  like  a  pretty  good  idea,"  said 
Mollie. 

187 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

"It's  a  first  class  idea,"  returned  Mr.  Me, 
"and  I'm  proud  of  it.  It's  all  my  own  and  if  I 
had  time  I'd  patent  it.  Why  I  was  invited  to  a 
party  once  by  a  small  boy  who'd  thrown  a  snow- 
ball at  my  house  and  wet  one  of  the  shingles  up 
where  I  keep  my  leak,  and  I  was  so  angry  that 
I  sat  down  and  wrote  back  that  I  regretted  very 
much  to  be  delighted  to  say  that  I'd  never  go  to 
a  party  at  his  house  if  it  was  the  only  party  in 
the  world  besides  the  Republican;  that  I  didn't 
like  him,  and  thought  his  mother's  new  spring 
bonnet  was  most  unbecoming  and  that  I'd  heard 
his  father  had  been  mentioned  for  Alderman  in 
our  town  and  all  sorts  of  disgraceful  things  like 
that.  I  mailed  this  right  in  my  hat  and  used  it  to 
boil  an  egg  with  a  month  later,  while  if  I'd  mailed 
it  in  the  post-office  box  that  boy'd  have  got  it  and 
I  couldn't  have  gone  to  his  party  at  all." 

"Oh — you  went,  did  you?"  laughed  Mollie. 

"I  did  and  I  had  a  fine  time,  six  eclairs,  three 
plates  of  ice  cream,  a  pound  of  chicken  salad, 
and  a  pocketful  of  nuts  and  raisins,"  said  the 
Unwiseman.  "He  turned  out  to  be  a  very  nice 
boy,  and  his  mother's  spring  bonnet  wasn't  hers 
at  all  but  another  lady's  altogether,  and  his 

189 


PLANS  A  CHAMOIS  COMPANY 

father  had  not  even  been  mentioned  for  Water 
Commissioner.  You  see,  my  dear,  what  a  lot 
of  trouble  mailing  that  letter  in  the  old  beaver 
hat  saved  me,  not  to  mention  what  I  earned  in 
the  way  of  food  by  going  to  the  party  which  I 
couldn't  have  done  had  it  been  mailed  in  the 
regular  way." 

Here  the  old  gentleman  began  to  yodel  hap- 
pily, and  to  tell  passersby  in  song  that  he  was  a 
"Gay  Swiss  Laddy  with  a  carpet-bag,  That 
never  knew  fear  of  the  Alpine  crag,  For  his  eye 
was  bright  and  his  conscience  clear,  As  he  leapt 
his  way  through  the  atmosphere,  Tra-la-la, 
tra-la-la,  Trala-lolly-O. " 

"I  do  -  see  -  how  -  yood  -  make  -  that  -  sham- 
my-useful," said  Whistlebinkie.  "Except  to 
try  your  poems  on  and  I  don't  b'lieve  he's  a 
good  judge  o'  potery. " 

"He's  a  splendid  judge  of  queer  noises,"  said 
the  Unwiseman,  severely.  "He  knew  enough 
to  jump  a  mile  whenever  you  squeaked. " 

"Watt-else-coodie-doo?"  asked  Whistlebinkie 
through  his  hat.  "You  haven't  any  silver  to 
keep  polished  and  there  aren't  enough  queer 
noises  about  your  place  to  keep  him  busy. " 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

"What  else  coodie-do?"  retorted  the  Unwise- 
man,  giving  an  imitation  of  Whistlebinkie  that 
set  both  Mollie  and  the  rubber  doll  to  giggling. 
"Why  he  could  polish  up  the  handle  of  my  big 
front  door  for  one  thing.  He  could  lie  down  on 
his  back  and  wiggle  around  the  floor  and  make 
it  shine  like  a  lookin'  glass  for  another.  He  could 
rub  up  against  my  kitchen  stove  and  keep  it 
bright  and  shining  for  a  third — that's  some  of 
the  things  he  couldie-doo,  but  I  wouldn't  con- 
fine him  to  work  around  my  house.  I'd  lead 
him  around  among  the  neighbors  and  hire  him 
out  for  fifty  cents  a  day  for  general  shammy- 
skin  house-work.  I  dare  say  Mollie's  mother 
would  be  glad  to  have  a  real  live  shammy  around 
that  she  could  rub  her  tea-kettles  and  coffee 
pots  on  when  it  comes  to  cleaning  the  silver. " 

"They  can  buy  all  the  shammys  they  need  at 
the  grocer's,"  said  Whistlebinkie  scornfully. 

"Dead  ones,"  said  the  Unwiseman,  "but 
nary  a  live  shammy  have  you  seen  at  the  grocer's 
or  the  butcher's  or  the  milliner's  or  the  piano- 
tuner's.  That's  where  Wigglethorpe " 

"  Wigglethorpe  ?  "  cried  Whistlebinkie. 

"Yes  Wigglethorpe,"  repeated  the  Unwise- 

190 


PLANS  A  CHAMOIS  COMPANY 

man.  "That's  what  I  have  decided  to  call  my 
shammy  when  I  get  him  because  he  will  wiggle." 

"He  don't  thorpe,  does  he  ?"  laughed  Whistle- 
binkie. 

"He  thorpes  just  as  much  as  you  bink," 
retorted  the  Unwiseman.  "But  as  I  was  say- 
ing, Wigglethorpe,  being  alive,  will  be  better 
than  any  ten  dead  ones  because  he  wont  wear 
out,  maids  won't  leave  him  around  on  the  parlor 
floor,  and  just  because  he  wiggles,  the  silver  and 
the  hardwood  floors  and  front  door  handles  will 
be  polished  up  in  half  the  time  it  takes  to  do  it 
with  a  dead  one.  At  fifty  cents  a  day  I  could 
earn  three  dollars  a  week  on  Wigglethorpe— 

"Which  would  be  all  profit  if  you  fed  him  on 
potery,"  said  Whistlebinkie  with  a  grin. 

"And  if  I  imported  a  hundred  of  them  after  I 
found  that  Wigglethorpe  was  successful, "  the  Un- 
wiseman continued,  very  wisely  ignoring  Whistle- 
binkie's  sarcasm,"  that  would  be — hum — ha " 

"Three  hundred  dollars  a  week,"  prompted 
Mollie. 

"Exactly,"  said  the  Unwiseman,  "which  in  a 
year  would  amount  to — ahem — three  times  three 
hundred  and  sixty-five  is  nine,  twice  nine  is " 

191 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

"It  comes  to  $15,600  a   year,"   said   Mollie. 

"Right  to  a  penny,"  said  the  Unwiseman. 
"I  was  figuring  it  out  by  the  day.  Fifteen 
thousand  six  hundred  dollars  a  year  is  a  big  sum 
of  money  and  reckoned  in  eclairs  at  fifty  eclairs 
for  a  dollar  is — er — is — well  you  couldn't  eat  'em 
if  you  tried,  there'd  be  so  many. " 

"Seven  hundred  and  eighty  thousand  eclairs," 
said  Mollie. 

"That's  what  I  said,"  said  the  Unwiseman. 
;<You  just  couldn't  eat  'em,  but  you  could  sell 
'em,  so  really  you'd  have  two  businesses  right 
away,  shammys  and  eclaires." 

"  Mitey-big-biziness, "    hissed  Whistlebinkie. 

"Yes,"  said  the  Unwiseman,  "I  think  I'll 
suggest  it  to  my  burgular  when  I  get  home.  It 
seems  to  me  to  be  more  honorable  then  burgul- 
ing  and  it's  just  possible  that  after  a  summer 
spent  in  the  uplifting  company  of  my  kitchen 
stove  and  having  got  used  to  the  pleasant  con- 
versation of  my  leak,  and  seen  how  peaceful  it 
is  to  just  spend  your  days  exercising  a  sweet 
gentle  umbrella  like  mine,  he'll  want  to  reform 
and  go  into  something  else  that  he  can  do  in  the 
day-time. " 

192 


PLANS  A  CHAMOIS  COMPANY 

By  this  time  the  little  party  had  reached  the 
hotel,  and  Mollie's  father  was  delighted  to  hear 
of  the  Unwiseman's  proposition.  It  was  an 
entirely  new  idea,  he  said,  although  he  was 
doubtful  if  it  was  a  good  business  for  a  burgular. 

"People  might  not  be  willing  to  trust  him  with 
their  silver,"  he  said. 

"Very  well  then,"  said  the  Unwiseman. 
"Let  him  begin  on  front  door  knobs  and  parlor 
floors.  He's  not  likely  to  run  away  with  those. " 

The  next  day  the  travellers  left  Switzerland 
and  when  I  next  caught  sight  of  them  they  had 
arrived  at  Venice. 


13 


XII. 

VENICE 

IT  was  late  at  night  when  Mollie  and  her 
friends  arrived  at  Venice  and  the  Unwiseman, 
sleeping  peacefully  as  he  was  in  the  cavernous 
depths  of  his  carpet-bag,  did  not  get  his  first 
glimpse  of  the  lovely  city  of  the  waters  until  he 
waked  up  the  next  morning.  Unfortunately— 
or  possibly  it  was  a  fortunate  circumstance — 
the  old  gentleman  had  heard  of  Venice  only  in 
a  very  vague  way  before,  and  had  no  more  idea 
of  its  peculiarities  than  he  had  of  those  of  Way- 
cross  Junction,  Georgia,  or  any  other  place  he 
had  never  seen.  Consequently  his  first  sight  of 
Venice  filled  him  with  a  tremendous  deal  of 
excitement.  Emerging  from  his  carpet-bag  in 
the  cloak-room  of  the  hotel  he  walked  out  upon 
the  front  steps  of  the  building  which  descended 
into  the  Grand  Canal,  the  broad  waterway  that 
runs  its  serpentine  length  through  this  historic 
city  of  the  Adriatic. 

"'Gee  Whittaker!'"  he   cried,  as  the  great 
avenue  of  water  met  his  gaze.     "There's  been 

194 


VENICE 

a  flood!  Hi  there — inside — the  water  main  has 
busted,  and  the  whole  town's  afloat.  Wake  up 
everybody  and  save  yourselves!" 

He  turned  and  rushed  madly  up  the  hotel 
stairs  to  the  floor  upon  which  his  friends'  rooms 
were  located,  calling  lustily  all  the  way : 

"Get  up  everybody — the  reservoy's  busted; 
the    dam's    loose.      To    the    boats!      Mollie— 
Whistlebinkie — Mister  and  Mrs.  Mollie — get  up 
or  you'll  be  washed  away — the  whole  place  is 
flooded.     You  haven't  a  minute  to  spare." 

"What's  the  matter,  Mr.  Me?"  asked  Mollie, 
opening  her  door  as  she  recognized  the  Unwise- 
man's  voice  out  in  the  hallway.  "What  are 
you  scaring  everybody  to  death  for?" 

"Get  out  your  life  preservers — quick  before 
it  is  too  late, "  gasped  the  Unwiseman.  "  There's 
a  tidal  wave  galloping  up  and  down  the  street, 
and  we'll  be  drowned.  To  the  roof!  All  hands 
to  starboard  and  man  the  boats. " 

"What  are  you  talking  about?"  said  Mollie. 

"Look  out  your  front  window  if  you  don't 
believe  me,"  panted  the  Unwiseman.  "The 
whole  place  is  chuck  full  of  water — couldn't 
bail  it  out  in  a  week " 

195 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

"Oh,"  laughed  Mollie,  as  she  realized  what  it 
was  that  had  so  excited  her  friend.  "  Is  that  all  ? ' ' 

"All!"  ejaculated  the  Unwiseman,  his  eye- 
brows lifting  higher  with  astonishment.  "Isn't 
it  enough?  What  do  you  want,  the  whole 
Atlantic  Ocean  sitting  on  your  front  stoop?" 

"Why—"  began  Mollie,  "this  is  Venice " 

"Looks  like  Watertown,"  interrupted  the 
Unwiseman. 

"Thass-swattit-izz,"  whistled  Whistlebinkie. 
"Venice  is  a  water  town.  It's  built  on  it." 

"Built  on  it?"  queried  the  Unwiseman  look- 
ing scornfully  at  Whistlebinkie  as  much  as  to 
say  you  can't  fool  me  quite  so  easily  as  that. 
"Built  on  water?"  he  repeated. 

"Exactly,"  said  Mollie.  "Didn't  you  know 
that,  Mr.  Me  ?  Venice  is  built  right  out  on  the 
sea." 

"Well  of  all  queer  things!"  ejaculated  the 
Unwiseman,  so  surprised  that  he  plumped  down 
on  the  floor  and  sat  there  gazing  wonderingly 
up  at  Mollie.  "A  whole  city  built  on  the  sea! 
What's  the  matter,  wasn't  there  land  enough?" 

"Oh  yes,  I  guess  there  was  plenty  of  land," 
said  Mollie,  "but  maybe  somebody  else  owned 

196 


VENICE 

it.  Anyhow  the  Venetians  came  out  here  where 
there  were  a  lot  of  little  islands  to  begin  with  and 
drove  piles  into  the  water  and  built  their  city 
on  them. "  . 

"Well  that  beats  me,"  said  the  TJnwiseman, 
shaking  his  head  in  bewilderment.  "I've  heard 
of  fellows  building  up  big  copperations  on  water, 
but  never  a  city.  How  do  they  keep  the  water 
out  of  their  cellars?" 

"They  don't,"  said  Mollie. 

"Maybe  they  build  their  cellars  on  the  roof," 
suggested  Whistlebinkie. 

"Well,"  said  the  TJnwiseman,  rising  from  the 
floor  and  walking  to  the  front  window  and 
gazing  out  at  the  Grand  Canal,  "I  hope  this 
hotel  is  anchored  good  and  fast.  I  don't  mind 
going  to  sea  on  a  big  boat  that's  built  for  it, 
but  I  draw  the  line  at  sailin'  all  around  creation 
in  a  hotel." 

The  droll  little  old  gentleman  poised  himself 
on  one  toe  and  stretched  out  his  arms.  "There 
don't  seem  to  be  much  motion,  does  there," 
he  remarked. 

"There  isn't  any  at  all,"  said  Mollie.  "It's 
perfectly  still." 

197 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

"I  guess  it's  because  it's  a  clam  day, "  observed 
the  Unwiseman  uneasily.  "I  hope  it'll  stay 
clam  while  we're  here.  I'd  hate  to  be  caught 
out  in  movey  weather  like  they  had  on  that 
sassy  little  British  Channel.  This  hotel  would 
flop  abo,ut  fearfully  and  I  believe  it  would  sink 
if  somebody  carelessly  left  a  window  open,  to 
say  nothing  of  its  falling  over  backward  and 
letting  the  water  in  the  back  door. " 

"Papa  says  it's  perfectly  safe,"  said  Mollie. 
'The  place  has  been  here  more'n  a  thousand 
years  and  it  hasn't  sunk  yet." 

"All  right,"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "If  your 
father  says  that  I'm  satisfied  because  he  most 
generally  knows  what  he's  talking  about,  but 
all  the  same  I  think  we  should  ought  to  have 
brought  a  couple  o'  row  boats  and  a  lot  of  life 
preservers  along.  I  don't  believe  in  taking  any 
chances.  What  do  the  cab-horses  do  here, 
swim?" 

"No,"  said  Mollie.  "There  aren't  any  horses 
in  Venice.  'They  have  gondolas." 

"  Gondolas  ?"  repeated  the  Unwiseman."  What 
are  gondolas,  trained  ducks  ?  Don't  think  much 
o'  ducks  as  a  substitute  for  horses." 

198 


THEY  ALL  BOARDED  A  GONDOLA 


VENICE 

"Perfly-bsoyd!"  whistled  Whistlebinkie. 

"I  should  think  they'd  drive  whales,"  said  the 
Unwiseman,  "or  porpoises.  By  Jiminy,  that 
would  be  fun,  wouldn't  it  ?  Let's  see  if  we  can't 
hire  a  four  whale  coach,  Mollie,  and  go  driving 
about  the  city,  or  better  yet,  if  they've  got  them 
well  broken,  get  a  school  of  porpoises.  We 
might  put  on  our  bathing  suits  and  go  horse- 
back riding  on  'em.  I  don't  take  much  to  the 
trained  duck  idea,  ducks  are  so  flighty  and  if 
they  shied  at  anything  they  might  go  flying  up 
in  the  air  and  dump  us  backwards  out  of  our  cab 
into  the  water." 

"We're  going  to  take  a  gondola  ride  this  morn- 
ing," said  Mollie.  "  Just  you  wait  and  see,  Mr. 
Me." 

So  the  Unwiseman  waited  and  an  hour  later 
he  and  Mollie  and  Whistlebinkie  boarded  a  gon- 
dola in  charge  of  a  very  handsome  and  smiling 
gondolier  who  said  his  name  was  Giuseppe 
Zocco. 

"  Soako  is  a  good  name  for  a  cab-driver  in  this 
town,"  said  the  Unwiseman,  after  he  had  in- 
spected the  gondola  and  ascertained  that  it  was 
seaworthy.  "I  guess  I'll  talk  to  him." 

199 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

'You-do-know-Eye-talian,"  laughed  Whistle- 
binkie. 

"It's  one  of  the  languages  I  do  know,"  re- 
turned the  Unwiseman.  "I  buy  all  my  bananas 
and  my  peanuts  from  an  Eye-talian  at  home  and 
for  two  or  three  years  I  have  been  able  to  talk  to 
him  very  easily." 

He  turned  to  the  gondolier. 

"Gooda  da  morn,  Soako,"  he  observed  very 
politely.  "You  havea  da  prett-da-boat." 

"Si,  Signor,"  returned  the  smiling  gondolier, 
who  was  not  wholly  unfamiliar  with  English. 

"See  what?"  asked  the  Unwiseman  puzzled, 
but  looking  about  carefully  to  see  what  there  was 
to  be  seen. 

"He  says  we're  at  sea,"  laughed  Whistle- 
binkie. 

"Oh— well— that's  it,  eh?"  said  the  Unwise- 
man. "I  thought  he  only  spoke  Eye-talian." 
And  then  he  addressed  the  gondolier  again. 
"Da  weather's  mighta  da  fine,  huh?  Not  a 
da  rain  or  da  heava  da  wind,  eh?  Hopa  da 
babe  is  vera  da  well  da  morn." 

"Si,  Signor,"  said  Giuseppe. 

"Da  Venn  greata  da  place.     Too  mucha  da 

200 


VENICE 

watt  for  me.  Lika  da  dry  land  moocha  da  bett, 
Giuseppe.  Ever  sella  da  banann?"  continued 
the  Unwiseman. 

"Non,  Signor,"  replied  Giuseppe.  "No  sella 
da  banann." 

"Bully  da  bizz,"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "Maka 
da  munn  hand  over  da  fist.  You  grinda  da 
org?" 

"Huh?"  grinned  Giuseppe. 

"He  doesn't  understand,"  said  Mollie  giggling. 

"I  asked  him  if  he  ever  ground  a  hand-or- 
gan," said  the  Unwiseman.  "Perfectly  simple 
question.  I  aska  da  questch,  Giuseppe,  if  you 
ever  grinda  da  org.  You  know  what  I  mean. 
Da  musica-box,  wid  da  monk  for  climba  da 
house  for  catcha  da  nick." 

"  What's  'catena  da  nick'  ?"  whispered  Whistle- 
binkie. 

"To  catch  the  nickels,  stoopid,"  said  the  Un- 
wiseman; "don't  interrupt.  No  hava  da  monk, 
Giuseppe?"  he  asked. 

"Non,  Signor,"  said  the  gondolier.  "No 
hava  da  monk." 

"Too  bad,"  observed  the  Unwiseman.  "Hand- 
org  not  moocha  da  good  without  da  monk.  Da 

201 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

monk  maka  da  laugh  and  catcha  da  mun  by  da 
cupful.  If  you  ever  come  to  America,  Giuseppe, 
no  forgetta  da  monk  with  a  redda  da  cap." 

With  which  admonition  the  Unwiseman  turned 
his  attention  to  other  things. 

"Is  that  really  Eye-talian?"  asked  Whistle- 
binkie. 

"Of  course  it  is,"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "It's 
the  easiest  language  in  the  world  to  pick  up  and 
only  requires  a  little  practice  to  make  you  speak 
it  as  if  it  were  your  own  tongue.  I  was  never 
conscious  that  I  was  learning  it  in  my  morning 
talks  with  old  Gorgorini,  the  banana  man  at  home. 
This  would  be  a  great  place  for  automobiles, 
wouldn't  it,  Mollie?"  he  laughed  in  conclusion. 

"I  don't  guesso,"  said  Whistlebinkie. 

The  gondolier  now  guided  the  graceful  craft 
to  a  flight  of  marble  steps  up  which  Mollie  and 
her  friends  mounted  to  the  Piazza  San  Marco. 

"This  is  great,"  said  the  Unwiseman  as  he 
gazed  about  him  and  took  in  its  splendors.  "  It's 
a  wonder  to  me  that  they  don't  have  a  lot  of 
places  like  this  on  the  way  over  from  New  York 
to  Liverpool.  Crossing  the  ocean  would  be 
some  fun  if  you  could  step  off  every  hour  or  two 

202 


VENICE 

and  stretch  your  legs  on  something  solid,  and 
buy  a  few  tons  of  tumblers,  and  feed  pigeons. 
Fact  is  I  think  that's  the  best  cure  in  the  world 
for  sea-sickness.  If  you  could  run  up  to  a  little 
piazza  like  this  three  times  a  day  where  there's 
a  nice  restaurant  waiting  for  you  and  no  motion 
to  spoil  your  appetite  I  wouldn't  mind  being  a 
sailor  for  the  rest  of  my  life." 

The  travellers  passed  through  the  glorious 
church  of  San  Marco,  inspected  the  Doge's 
Palace  and  then  returned  to  the  gondola,  upon 
which  they  sailed  back  to  their  hotel. 

"Moocha  da  thanks,  Giuseppe,"  said  the 
Unwiseman,  as  he  alighted.  "Here's  a  Yankee 
da  quart  for  you.  Save  it  up  and  when  you  come 
to  America  as  all  the  Eye-talians  seem  to  be  doing 
these  days,  it  will  help  start  you  in  business." 

And  handing  the  gondolier  a  quarter  the  Un- 
wiseman disappeared  into  the  hotel.  The  next 
day  he  entered  Mollie's  room  and  asked  permis- 
sion to  sit  out  on  her  balcony. 

"  I  think  I'll  try  a  little  fishing  this  afternoon," 
he  said.  "  It  isn't  a  bad  idea  having  a  hotel  right 
on  the  water  front  this  way  after  all.  You  can  sit 
out  on  your  balcony  and  drop  your  line  out  into 

203 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

the  water  and  just  haul  them  in  by  the  dozen." 
But  alas  for  the  old  gentleman's  expectations, 
he  caught  never  a  fish.  Whether  it  was  the 
fault  of  the  bait  or  not  I  don't  know,  but  the  only 
things  he  succeeded  in  catching  were  an  old 
barrel-hoop  that  went  floating  along  the  canal 
from  the  Fruit  Market  up  the  way,  and,  sad  to 
relate,  the  straw  hat  of  an  American  artist  on  his 
way  home  in  his  gondola  from  a  day's  painting 
out  near  the  Lido.  The  latter  incident  caused 
a  great  deal  of  trouble  and  it  took  all  the  per- 
suasion that  Mollie's  father  was  capable  of  to 
keep  the  artist  from  having  the  Unwiseman 
arrested.  It  seems  that  the  artist  was  very  much 
put  out  anyhow  because,  mix  his  colors  as  he 
would,  he  could  not  get  that  peculiarly  beautiful 
blue  of  the  Venetian  skies,  and  the  lovely  irides- 
cent hues  of  the  Venetian  air  were  too  delicate 
for  such  a  brush  as  his,  and  to  have  his  straw  hat 
unceremoniously  snatched  off  his  head  by  an  old 
gentleman  two  flights  up  with  an  ordinary  fish 
hook  baited  with  macaroni  in  addition  to  his 
other  troubles  was  too  much  for  his  temper,  not 
a  good  one  at  best. 

"  I  am  perfectly  willing  to  say  that  I  am  sorry," 

204 


VENICE 

protested  the  Unwiseman  when  he  was  hauled 
before  the  angry  artist.  "I  naturally  would 
be  sorry.  When  a  man  goes  fishing  for  shad  and 
lands  nothing  but  a  last  year's  straw  hat,  why 
wouldn't  he  be  sorry? " 

"That's  a  mighty  poor  apology!"  retorted  the 
artist,  putting  the  straw  hat  on  his  head. 

"Well  I'm  a  poor  man,"  said  the  Unwiseman. 
"My  expenses  have  been  very  heavy  of  late. 
What  with  buying  an  air-gun  to  shoot  Alps 
with,  and  giving  a  quarter  to  the  Ganderman  to 
help  him  buy  a  monkey,  I'm  reduced  from  nine- 
fifty  to  a  trifle  under  seven  dollars." 

"You  had  no  business  fishing  from  that  bal- 
cony!" said  the  artist  angrily. 

"I  haven't  any  business  anywhere,  I've  re- 
tired," said  the  Unwiseman.  "And  I  can  tell 
you  one  thing  certain,"  he  added,  "if  I  was 
going  back  into  business  I  wouldn't  take  up  fish- 
ing for  straw  hats  and  barrel-hoops  in  Venice. 
There's  nothing  but  to  trouble  in  it." 

"I  shall  lodge  a  complaint  against  you  in  the 
Lion's  Mouth,"  said  the  artist,  with  a  slight 
twinkle  in  his  eye,  his  good  humor  returning  in 
the  presence  of  the  Unwiseman. 

205 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

"And  I  shall  fall  back  on  my  rights  as  an 
American  citizen  to  fish  whenever  I  please  from 
my  own  balcony  with  my  own  bait  without  inter- 
ruption from  foreign  straw  hats,"  said  the  Un- 
wiseman  with  dignity. 

"What?"  cried  the  artist.     "You  an  Amer- 


ican?" 


"Certainly,"  said  the  Unwiseman.  'You 
didn't  take  me  for  an  Eye-talian,  did  you  ?" 

"So  am  I,"  returned  the  artist  holding  out  his 
hand.  "If  you'd  only  told  me  that  in  the  be- 
ginning I  never  should  have  complained." 

"Don't  mention  it,"  said  the  Unwiseman 
graciously.  "I  was  afraid  you  were  an  English- 
man, and  then  there'd  been  a  war  sure,  because 
I'll  never  give  in  to  an  Englishman.  If  your  hat 
is  seriously  damaged  I'll  give  you  my  tarpaulin, 
seeing  that  you  are  an  American  like  myself." 

"Not  at  all,"  said  the  artist.  "The  hat  isn't 
hurt  at  all  and  I'm  very  glad  to  have  met  you. 
If  your  hook  had  only  caught  my  eye  on  my  way 
up  the  canal  I  should  have  turned  aside  so  as  not 
to  interfere." 

"Well  I'm  mighty  glad  it  didn't  catch  your 
eye,"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "I  could  afford  to 


206 


VENICE 

buy  you  a  new  straw  hat,  but  I'm  afraid  a  new 
eye  would  have  busted  me." 

And  there  the  trouble  ended.  The  artist  and 
the  Unwiseman  shook  hands  and  parted  friends. 

"What  was  that  he  said  about  the  Lion's 
Mouth?"  asked  the  Unwiseman  after  the  artist 
had  gone. 

"He  said  he'd  lodge  a  complaint  there,"  said 
Mollie.  "That's  the  way  they  used  to  do  here. 
Those  big  statues  of  lions  out  in  front  of  the 
Doggies'  Palace  with  their  mouths  wide  open 
are  big  boxes  where  people  can  mail  their  com- 
plaints to  the  Government. " 

"Oh,  I  see,"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "And 
when  the  Doggies  get  the  complaints  they  attend 
to  'em,  eh?" 

"Yes,"  said  Mollie. 

"And  who  are  the  Doggies?"  asked  the 
Unwiseman.  "They  don't  have  dogs  instead 
of  pleece  over  here,  do  they  ?  I  get  so  mixed  up 
with  these  Johns,  and  Bobbies,  and  Doggies  I 
hardly  know  where  I'm  at." 

"I  don't  exactly  understand  why,"  said 
Mollie,  "but  the  people  in  Venice  are  ruled  by 
Doggies." 

207 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

"They're  a  queer  lot  from  Buckingham 
Palace,  London,  down  to  this  old  tow-path," 
said  the  Unwiseman,  "and  if  I  ever  get  home 
alive  there's  no  more  abroad  for  your  Uncle  Me. " 

On  the  following  day,  Mollie's  parents  hav- 
ing seen  all  of  Venice  that  their  limited  time  per- 
mitted, prepared  to  start  for  Genoa,  whence 
the  steamer  back  to  New  York  was  to  sail. 
Everything  was  ready,  but  the  Unwiseman  was 
nowhere  to  be  found.  The  hotel  was  searched 
from  top  to  bottom  and  not  a  sign  of  him. 
Giuseppe  Zocco  denied  all  knowledge  of  him, 
and  the  carpet-bag  gave  no  evidence  that  he  had 
been  in  it  the  night,  before  as  was  his  custom. 
Train-time  was  approaching  and  Mollie  was 
distracted.  Even  Whistlebinkie  whistled  under 
his  breath  for  fear  that  something  had  happened 
to  the  old  gentleman. 

"I  hope  he  hasn't  fallen  overboard!"  moaned 
Mollie,  gazing  anxiously  into  the  watery  depths 
of  the  canal. 

"Here  he  comes!"  cried  Whistlebinkie,  jubi- 
lantly, and  sure  enough  down  the  canal  seated 
on  a  small  raft  and  paddling  his  way  cautiously 
along  with  his  hands  came  the  Unwiseman,  sing- 


VENICE 

ing  the  popular  Italian  ballad  "Margherita" 
at  the  top  of  his  lungs. 

"Gander  ahoy!"  he  cried,  as  he  neared  the 
hotel  steps.  "Sheer  off  there,  Captain,  and  let 
me  into  Port." 

The  gondolier  made  room  for  him  and  the 
Unwiseman  alighted. 

"Where  have  you  been  ?"  asked  Mollie,  throw- 
ing her  arms  about  his  neck. 

"Up  the  canal  a  little  way,"  he  answered 
unconcernedly.  "I  wanted  to  mail  a  letter  to 
the  Doggie  in  the  Lion's  Mouth." 

"What  about?"  asked  Mollie. 

"  Watertown,  otherwise  Venice,"  said  the  Un- 
wiseman. "I  had  some  suggestions  for  its  im- 
provement and  I  didn't  want  to  go  way  without 
making  them.  There's  a  copy  of  my  letter  if  you 
want  to  see  it, "  he  added,  handing  Mollie  a  piece 
of  paper  upon  which  he  had  written  as  follows: 

29  Grand  Canal  St.,  Venice,  It. 
ANCIENT  &  HONORABLE  Bow-wows: 

I  have  enjoyed  my  visit  to  your  beautiful  but  wet  old  town 
very  much  and  would  respectfully  advise  you  that  there  are 
several  things  you  can  do  to  keep  it  unspiled.  These  are  as 
follows  to  wit  viz: 

I.  Bale  it  out  once  in  a  while  and  see  that  the  barrel  hoops 
in  your  Grand  Canal  are  sifted  out  of  it.  They're  a  mighty 
poor  stubstishoot  for  shad. 

14  209 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

II.  Get  a  few  trained  whales  in  commission  so  that  when 
a  feller  wants  to  go  driving  he  won't  have  to  go  paddling. 

III.  Stock  your  streets  with  trout,  or  flounders,  or  perch  or 
even  sardines  in  order  that  us  Americans  who  feel  like  fishing 
won't  have  to  be  satisfied  with  a  poor  quality  of  straw  hat. 

IV.  During  the  fishing  season  compel  artists  returning  from 
their  work  to  wear  beaver  hats  or  something  else  that  a  fish- 
hook baited  with  macaroni  won't  catch  into  thus  making  a 
lot  of  trouble. 

V.  Get  together  on  your  language.    I  speak  the  very  best 
variety  of  banana-stand  Italian  and  twenty -three  out  of  twenty- 
four  people  to  which  I  have  made  remarks  in  it  have  not  been 
able  to  grasp  my  meaning. 

VI.  Pigeons  are  very  nice  to  have  but  they  grow  monoto- 
nous.   Would  suggest  a  half  dozen  first  class  American  hens  as 
an  ornament  to  your  piazza. 

VII.  Stop  calling  yourself  Doggies.    It  makes  people  laugh. 
With  kind  regards  to  the  various  Mrs.  Ds,  believe  me  to 

be  with  mucho  da  respecto, 

Yoursa  da  trool, 

Da  Unadawisamann. 

P.  S.  If  you  ever  go  sailing  abroad  in  your  old  town  point 
her  nose  towards  my  country.  We'll  all  be  glad  to  see  you 
over  there  and  can  supply  you  with  all  the  water  you  need. 

YdaT, 

MISTER  ME. 

It  was  with  these  recommendations  to  the 
Doges  that  the  Unwiseman  left  Venice.  Whether 
they  were  ever  received  or  not  I  have  never 
heard,  but  if  they  were  I  am  quite  sure  they 

made  the  "Doggies"  yelp  with  delight. 

210 


XIII. 

GENOA,    GIBRALTAR,    AND    COLUMBUS 

"WHATTA  da  namea  dissa  cit?"  asked  the 
Unwiseman  in  his  best  Italian  as  the  party 
arrived  at  Genoa,  whence  they  were  to  set  sail 
for  home  the  next  day. 

"This  is  Genoa,"  said  Mollie. 

"What's  it  good  for?"  demanded  the  old 
gentleman,  gazing  around  him  in  a  highly  critical 
fashion. 

"It's  where  Christopher  Columbus  was  born," 
said  Mollie.  "Didn't  you  know  that?" 

"You  don't  mean  the  gentleman  who  dis- 
covered the  United  States,  do  you?"  asked  the 
Unwiseman,  his  face  brightening  with  interest. 

"The  very  same,"  said  Mollie.  "He  was 
born  right  here  in  this  town." 

"Humph!"  ejaculated  the  Unwiseman. 
"Queer  place  for  a  fellow  like  that  to  be  born 
in.  You'd  think  a  man  who  was  going  to  dis- 
cover America  would  have  been  born  a  little 
nearer  the  United  States  than  this.  Up  in 

211 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

Canada  for  instance,  or  down  around  Cuba,  so's 
he  wouldn't  have  so  far  to  travel." 

"Canada  and  Cuba  weren't  discovered  either 
at  that  time,"  explained  Mollie,  smiling  broadly 
at  the  Unwiseman's  ignorance. 

"Really?"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "Well  that 
accounts  for  it.  I  always  wondered  why  the 
United  States  wasn't  discovered  by  somebody 
nearer  home,  like  a  Canadian  or  a  Cuban,  or 
some  fellow  down  around  where  the  Panama 
hats  come  from,  but  of  course  if  there  wasn't 
any  Canadians  or  Cubans  or  Panama  hatters 
around  to  do  it,  it's  as  clear  as  pie."  The  old 
gentleman  paused  a  moment,  and  then  he  went 
on:  "So  this  is  the  place  that  would  have  been 
our  native  land  if  Columbus  hadn't  gone  to  sea, 
is  it  ?  I  think  I'll  take  home  a  bottle  of  it  to 
keep  on  the  mantel-piece  alongside  of  my  bottle 
of  United  States  and  label  'em  *  My  Native  Land, 
Before  and  After.'  " 

"That's  a  very  good  idea,"  said  Mollie. 
"Then  you'll  have  a  complete  set." 

"I  wonder,"  said  the  Unwiseman,  rubbing 
his  forehead  reflectively,  "I  wonder  if  he's 
alive  yet." 


GENOA,  GIBRALTAR,  AND  COLUMBUS 

"What,  Christopher  Columbus?"  laughed 
Mollie. 

"Yes,"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "I  haven't 
seen  much  in  the  papers  about  him  lately,  but 
that  don't  prove  he's  dead." 

"Why  he  discovered  America  in  1492,"  said 
Mollie. 

"Well — let's  see — how  long  ago  was  that? 
More'n  forty  years,  wasn't  it  ?"  said  the  Unwise- 


man. 
<• 


I  guess  it  was  more  than  forty  years  ago," 
giggled  Mollie. 

"Well — say  fifty  then,"  said  the  Unwiseman. 
"I'm  pretty  nearly  that  old  myself.  I  was  born 
in  1839,  or  1843,  or  some  such  year,  and  as  I 
remember  it  we'd  been  discovered  then — but 
that  wouldn't  make  him  so  awfully  old  you  know. 
A  man  can  be  eighty  and  still  live.  Look  at  old 
Methoosalum — he  was  nine  hundred. " 

"Oh  well,"  said  Mollie,  "there  isn't  any  use 
of  talking  about  it.  Columbus  has  been  dead 
a  long  time " 

"All  I  can  say  is  that  I'm  very  sorry,"  inter- 
rupted the  Unwiseman,  with  a  sad  little  shake 
of  his  head.  "I  should  very  much  like  to  have 

213 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

gone  over  and  called  on  him  just  to  thank  him 
for  dishcovering  the  United  States.  Just  think, 
Mollie,  of  what  would  have  happened  if  he 
hadn't!  You  and  I  and  old  Fizzledinkie  here 
would  have  had  to  be  Eye-talians,  or  Switzers, 
and  live  over  here  all  the  time  if  it  hadn't  been 
for  him,  and  our  own  beautiful  native  land  would 
have  been  left  way  across  the  sea  all  alone  by 
itself  and  we'd  never  have  known  anything 
about  it." 

"We  certainly  ought  to  be  very  much  obliged 
to  Mr.  Columbus  for  all  he  did  for  us,"  said 
Mollie. 

"I  -  guess  -  somebuddyelse  -  wudda  -  donit," 
whistled  Whistlebinkie.  "They  cuddn'-ta-helptit- 
with-all-these-socean  steamers-going-over-there- 
every-day. " 

"That's  true  enough,"  said  the  Unwiseman, 
"but  we  ought  to  be  thankful  to  Columbus  just 
the  same.  Other  people  might  have  done  it,  but 
the  fact  remains  that  he  did  do  it,  so  I'm  much 
obliged  to  him.  I'd  sort  of  like  to  do  something 
to  show  my  gratitude. " 

"Better  write  to  his  family,"  grinned  Whistle- 
binkie. 

214 


GENOA,  GIBRALTAR,  AND  COLUMBUS 

"For  a  rubber  doll  with  a  squeak  instead 
of  brain  in  his  head  that's  a  first  rate  idea, 
Fizzledinkie, "  said  the  old  gentleman.  "I'll 
do  it." 

And  so  he  did.  The  evening  mail  from  the 
Unwiseman's  hotel  carried  with  it  a  souvenir 
postal  card  addressed  to  Christopher  Columbus, 
Jr.,  upon  which  the  sender  had  written  as 
follows : 

GENOA,  Aug.  23,  19 — . 
DEAR  CHRISTOPHER: 

As  an  American  citizen  I  want  to  thank  you  for  your  Papa's 
very  great  kindness  in  dishcovering  the  United  States.  When 
I  think  that  if  he  hadn't  I  might  have  been  born  a  Switzer  or 
a  French  John  Darm  it  gives  me  a  chill.  I  would  have  called 
on  you  to  say  this  in  person  if  I'd  had  time,  but  we  are  going 
to  sail  tomorrow  for  home  and  we're  pretty  busy  packing  up 
our  carpet-bags  and  eating  our  last  meals  on  shore.  If  you 
ever  feel  like  dishcovering  us  on  your  own  account  and  cross 
over  the  briny  deep  yourself,  don't  fail  to  call  on  me  at  my 
home  where  I  have  a  fine  kitching  stove  and  an  umbrella 
which  will  always  be  at  your  disposal. 
Yours  trooly, 

THE  UNWISEMAN,  U.  S.  A. 

Later  in  the  evening  to  the  same  address  was 
despatched  another  postal  reading: 

P.S.  If  you  happen  to  have  an  extra  photograph  of  your  Papa 
lying  around  the  house  that  you  don't  want  with  his  orty graph 
on  it  I  shall  be  glad  to  have  you  send  it  to  me.  I  will  have  it 

215 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

framed  and  hung  up  in  the  parlor  alongside  of  General  Wash- 
ington and  President  Roosevelt  who  have  also  been  fathers  of 
their  country  from  time  to  time. 

Yours  trooly, 

THE  UNWISEMAN,  U.  S.  A. 

"I'm  glad  I  did  that,"  said  the  Unwiseman 
when  he  told  Mollie  of  his  two  messages  to 
Christopher,  Jr.  "I  don't  think  people  as  a  rule 
are  careful  enough  these  days  to  show  their  thanks 
to  other  people  who  do  things  for  them.  It  don't 
do  any  harm  to  be  polite  in  matters  of  that  kind 
and  some  time  it  may  do  a  lot  of  good.  Good  man- 
ners ain't  never  out  of  place  anywhere  anyhow. " 

In  which  praiseworthy  sentiment  I  am  happy 
to  say  both  Mollie  and  Whistlebinkie  agreed. 

The  following  day  the  travellers  embarked  on 
the  steamer  bound  for  New  York.  This  time, 
weary  of  his  experience  as  a  stowaway  on  the 
trip  over,  the  Unwiseman  contented  himself  with 
travelling  in  his  carpet-bag  and  not  until  after 
the  ship  had  passed  along  the  Mediterranean  and 
out  through  the  straits  of  Gibraltar,  did  he  appear 
before  his  companions.  His  first  appearance 
upon  deck  was  just  as  the  coast  of  Africa  was  fad- 
ing away  upon  the  horizon.  He  peered  at  this 
long  and  earnestly  through  a  small  blue  bottle  he 

216 


GENOA,  GIBRALTAR,  AND  COLUMBUS 

held  in  his  hand,  and  then  when  the  last  vestige  of 
the  scene  sank  slowly  behind  the  horizon  line  into 
the  sea,  he  corked  the  bottle  up  tightly,  put  it  into 
his  pocket  and  turned  to  Mollie  and  Whistlebinkie. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "that's  done— and  I'm  glad 
of  it.  I've  enjoyed  this  trip  very  much,  but 
after  all  I'm  glad  I'm  going  home.  Be  it  ever 
so  bumble  there's  no  place  like  home,  as  the 
Bee  said,  and  I'll  be  glad  to  be  back  again  where 
I  can  sleep  comfortably  on  my  kitchen-stove, 
with  my  beloved  umbrella  standing  guard  along- 
side of  me,  and  my  trusty  leak  looking  down 
upon  me  from  the  ceiling  while  I  rest. " 

'You  missed  a  wonderful  sight,"  said  Mollie. 
"That  Rock  of  Gibraltar  was  perfectly  magnifi- 
cent." 

"I  didn't  miss  it,"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "I 
peeked  at  it  through  the  port-hole  and  I  quite 
agree  with  you.  It  is  the  cutest  piece  of  rock 
I've  seen  in  a  long  time.  It  seemed  almost  as 
big  to  me  as  the  boulder  in  my  back  yard  must 
seem  to  an  ant,  but  I  prefer  my  boulder  just  the 
same.  Gibrallyper's  too  big  to  do  anything  with 
and  it  spoils  the  view,  whereas  my  boulder  can 
be  rolled  around  the  place  without  any  trouble 

217 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

and  doesn't  spoil  anything.  I  suppose  they  keep 
it  there  to  keep  Spain  from  sliding  down  into  the 
sea,  so  it's  useful  in  a  way,  but  after  all  I'm  just 
as  glad  it's  here  instead  of  out  on  my  lawn 
somewhere." 

"What  have  you  been  doing  all  these  days?" 
asked  Mollie. 

"O  just  keeping  quiet,"  said  the  Unwiseman. 
"I've  been  reading  up  on  Christopher  Columbus 
and — er — writing  a  few  poems  about  him.  He 
was  a  wonderful  man,  Columbus  was.  He  proved 
the  earth  was  round  when  everybody  else  thought 
it  was  flat — and  how  do  you  suppose  he  did  it  ?" 

"By  sailin'  around  it,"  said  Whistlebinkie. 

"  That  was  after  he  proved  it,"  observed  the 
Unwiseman,  with  the  superior  air  of  one  who 
knows  more  than  somebody  else.  "  He  proved  it 
by  making  an  egg  stand  up  on  its  hind  legs." 

"What?"  cried  Mollie. 

"I  didn't  know  eggs  had  hind  legs,"  said 
Whistlebinkie. 

"Ever  see  a  chicken?"  asked  the  Unwiseman. 

"Yes,"  said  Whistlebinkie. 

"Well,  a  chicken's  only  an  advanced  egg," 
said  the  Unwiseman. 

218 


GENOA,  GIBRALTAR,  AND  COLUMBUS 

"That's  true,"  said  Mollie. 

"And  chickens  haven't  got  anything  but  hind 
legs,  have  they  ?  "  demanded  the  old  gentleman. 

"Thass-a-fact,"  whistled  Whistlebinkie. 

"And  Columbus  proved  it  by  making  the  egg 
stand  up?"  asked  Mollie. 

"That's  what  history  tells  us,"  said  the  Un- 
wiseman.  "  All  the  Harvard  and  Yale  professors 
of  the  day  said  the  earth  was  flat,  but  Columbus 
knew  better,  so  he  just  took  an  egg  and  proved 
it.  That's  one  of  the  things  I've  put  in  a  poem. 
Want  to  hear  it?" 

"Indeed  I  do,"  said  Mollie.  "It  must  be 
interesting." 

"It  is — it's  the  longest  poem  I  ever  wrote," 
said  the  Unwiseman,  and  seeking  out  a  retired 
nook  on  the  steamer's  deck  the  droll  old  fellow 
seated  himself  on  a  coil  of  rope  and  read  the 
following  poem  to  Mollie  and  Whistlebinkie. 

COLUMBUS  AND  THE  EGG. 

"  Columbus  was  a  gentleman 
Who  sailed  the  briny  sea. 
He  was  a  bright  young  Genoan 

In  sunny  Italy 

Who  once  discovered  just  the  plan 
To  find  Amerikee." 
219 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

"Splendid!"  cried  Mollie,  clapping  her  hands 
with  glee. 

"Perfly-bully!"  chortled  Whistlebinkie,  with 
a  joyous  squeak. 

"I'm  glad  you  like  it,"  said  the  Unwiseman, 
with  a  smile  of  pleasure.  "But  just  you  wait. 
The  best  part  of  it's  to  come  yet." 

And  the  old  gentleman  resumed  his  poem: 

"He  sought  the  wise- men  of  his  time, 

And  when  the  same  were  found, 
He  went  and  whispered  to  them,  'I'm 

Convinced  the  Earth  is  round, 
Just  like  an  orange  or  a  lime — 

I'll  bet  you  half  a  pound!' 

Each  wise-man  then  just  shook  his  head — 

Each  one  within  his  hat. 
*Go  to,  Columbus,  child,'  they  said. 

"We  know  the  Earth  is  flat. 
Go  home,  my  son,  and  go  to  bed 
And  don't  talk  stuff  like  that. ' 

But  Christopher  could  not  be  hushed 

By  fellows  such  as  they. 
His  spirit  never  could  be  crushed 

In  such  an  easy  way, 
And  with  his  heart  and  soul  unsquughed 

He  plunged  into  the  fray." 

"What's  a  fray?"  asked  Whistlebinkie. 

"A  fight,  row,  dispute,  argyment,"  said  the 


GENOA,  GIBRALTAR,  AND  COLUMBUS 

Unwiseman.     "Don't  interrupt.    We're  coming 
to  the  exciting  part." 
And  he  went  on: 

"Til  prove  the  world  is  round,'  said  he 

'For  you  next  Tuesday  night, 
If  you  will  gather  formally 

And  listen  to  the  right.' 
And  all  the  wise-men  did  agree 

Because  they  loved  a  fight. 
And  so  the  wise- men  gathered  there 

To  hear  Columbus  talk, 
And  some  were  white  as  to  the  hair 

And  some  could  hardly  walk, 
And  one  looked  like  a  Polar  Bear 

And  one  looked  like  an  Auk." 

"How-dju-know-that?"  asked  Whistlebinkie. 
"Does  the  history  say  all  that?" 

"No,"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "The  history 
doesn't  say  anything  about  their  looks,  but 
there's  a  picture  of  the  whole  party  in  the  book, 
and  it  was  just  as  I  say  especially  the  Polar  Bear 
and  the  Auk.  Anyhow,  they  were  all  there  and 
the  poem  goes  on  to  tell  about  it. 

"Now  when  about  the  room  they  sat 

Columbus  he  came  in; 
Took  off  his  rubbers  and  his  hat, 

Likewise  his  tarpaulin. 
He  cleared  his  throat  and  stroked  the  cat 

And  thus  wise  did  begin." 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

"There  wasn't  any  cat  in  the  picture,"  ex- 
plained the  Unwiseman,  "  but  I  introduced  him  to 
get  a  rhyme  for  hat  and  sat.  ^Sometimes  you  have 
to  do  things  like  that  in  poetry  and  according  to 
the  rules  if  you  have  a  license  you  can  do  it." 

"Have  you  got  a  license?"  asked  Whistle- 
binkie. 

"Not  to  write  poetry,  but  I've  got  a  dog- 
license,"  said  the  Unwiseman,  "and  I  guess  if  a 
man  pays  three  dollars  to  keep  a  dog  and 
doesn't  keep  the  dog  he's  got  a  right  to  use  the 
license  for  something  else.  I'll  risk  it  anyhow. 
So  just  keep  still  and  listen. 

'"You  see  this  egg?'  Columbus  led. 

'Now  watch  me,  sirs,  I  begs. 
I'll  make  it  stand  upon  its  head 

Or  else  upon  its  legs.' 
And  instantly  'twas  as  he  said 
As  sure  as  eggs  is  eggs. 

For  whether  'twas  an  Egg  from  school 

Or  in  a  circus  taught, 
Or  whether  it  was  just  a  cool 

Egg  of  unusual  sort, 
That  egg  stood  up  just  like  a  spool 

According  to  report." 

"I  bet  he  smashed  in  the  end  of  it,"  said 
Whistlebinkie. 

222 


GENOA,  GIBRALTAR,  AND  COLUMBUS 

"Maybe  it  was  a  scrambled  egg,  maybe  he 
stuck  a  pin  in  an  end  of  it.  Maybe  he  didn't. 
Anyhow,  he  made  it  stand  up,"  said  the  Unwise- 
man,  "and  I  wish  you'd  stop  squeakyrupting 
when  I'm  reading." 

"Go  ahead,"  said  Whistlebinkie  meekly. 
"It's  a  perfly  spulendid  piece  o'  potery  and  I 
can't  help  showing  my  yadmiration  for  it." 

"Well  keep  your  yadmiration  for  the  yend  of 
it,"  retorted  the  Unwiseman.  "We'll  be  in 
New  York  before  I  get  it  finished  at  this  rate." 

Whistlebinkie  promised  not  to  squeak  again 
and  the  Unwiseman  resumed. 

"  'O  wonderful!'  the  wise-men  cried. 

*O  marvellous,'  said  they. 
And  then  Columbus  up  and  tried 

The  egg  the  other  way, 
And  still  it  stood  up  full  of  pride 
Or  so  the  histories  say. 

Again  the  wise-men  cried  aloud, 

*O  wizard,  marvellous! 
Of  all  the  scientific  crowd 

This  is  the  man  for  us — 
O  Christopher  we're  mighty  proud 

Of  you,  you  little  cuss ! '  ' 

"That  wasn't  very  polite,"  began  Whistle- 
binkie. 

223 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

"Now  Squeaky,"  said  the  Unwiseman. 
"  'Scuse!"  gasped  Whistlebinkie. 
And  the  Unwiseman  went  on: 

'"For  men  who  make  an  omlette 

We  really  do  not  care; 
To  poach  an  egg  already  yet 

Is  easy  everywhere; 
But  he  who'll  teach  it  etiquette — 

He  is  a  genius  rare. 

*So  if  you  say  the  Earth  is  round 

We  think  it  must  be  so. 
Your  reasoning's  so  very  sound, 

Columbus  don't  you  know. 
Come  wizard,  take  your  half-a-pound 

Before  you  homeward  go.'" 

Whistlebinkie  began  to  fidget  again  and  his 
breath  came  in  little  short  squeaks. 

"But  I  don't  see,"  he  began.  "It  didn't 
prove 

"Wait!"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "Don't  you 
try  to  get  in  ahead  of  the  finish.  Here's  the  last 
verse,  and  it  covers  your  ground. 

"And  thus  it  was,  O  children  dear, 

Who  gather  at  my  knee, 
Columbus  showed  the  Earth  the  sphere 

It  since  has  proved  to  be; 
Though  how  the  Egg  trick  made  it  clear, 

I'm  blest  if  I  can  see." 


GENOA,  GIBRALTAR,  AND  COLUMBUS 

"Well  I'm  glad  you  put  that  last  voyse  in," 
said  Whistlebinkie,  "because  I  don't  see  either." 

"Oh — I  guess  they  thought  a  man  who  could 
train  an  egg  to  stand  up  was  a  pretty  smart 
man,"  said  Mollie,  "and  they  didn't  want  to 
dispute  with  him." 

"I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  that  was  it,"  said 
the  Unwiscrnan.  "I  noticed  too  in  the  picture 
that  Columbus  was  about  twice  as  big  as  any 
of  the  wise-men,  and  maybe  that  had  something 
to  do  with  it  too.  Anyhow,  he  was  pretty  smart." 

"Is  that  all  you  wrote  ?"  asked  Whistlebinkie. 

"No,"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "I  did  another 
little  one  called  'I  Wonder.'  There  are  a  lot  of 
things  the  histories  don't  tell  you  anything  about, 
so  I've  put  'em  all  in  a  rhyme  as  a  sort  of  hint  to 
people  who  are  going  to  write  about  him  in  the 
future.  It  goes  like  this: 

"  When  Christopher  Columbus  came  ashore, 
The  day  he  landed  in  Americor 
I  wonder  what  he  said  when  first  he  tried 
Down  in  the  subway  trains  to  take  a  ride  ? 

When  Christopher  Columbus  went  up  town 
And  looked  the  country  over,  up  and  down, 
I  wonder  what  he  thought  when  first  his  eye 
Was  caught  by  the  sky-scrapers  in  the  sky? 
15  225 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

When  Christopher  put  up  at  his  hotel 
And  first  pushed  in  the  button  of  his  bell 
And  upward  came  the  boy  who  orders  takes, 
I  wonder  if  he  ordered  buckwheat  cakes  ? 

When  Christopher  went  down  to  Washington 
To  pay  his  call  the  President  upon 
I  wonder  if  the  President  felt  queer 
To  know  that  his  discoverer  was  here  ? 

I  wonder  when  his  slow-poke  caravels 
Were  tossed  about  by  heavy  winds  and  swells, 
If  he  was  not  put  out  and  mad  to  spy 
The  ocean  steamers  prancing  swiftly  by  ? " 

"I  don't  know  about  other  people,"  said  the 
Unwiseman,  "but  little  things  like  that  always 
interest  me  about  as  much  as  anything  else,  but 
there's  nary  a  word  about  it  in  the  papers,  and 
as  far  as  my  memory  is  concerned  when  he  first 
came  I  was  too  young  to  know  much  about 
what  was  going  on.  I  do  remember  a  big  parade 
in  his  honor,  but  I  think  that  was  some  years 
after  the  discovery." 

"I  guess  it  was,"  said  Mollie,  with  a  laugh. 
"There  wasn't  anything  but  Indians  there  when 
he  arrived. 

"Really?  How  unfortunate — how  very  un- 
fortunate," said  the  Unwiseman.  "To  think 
that  on  the  few  occasions  that  he  came  here  he 


GENOA,  GIBRALTAR,  AND  COLUMBUS 

should  meet  only  Indians.  Mercy!  What  a 
queer  idea  of  the  citizens  of  the  United  States 
he  must  have  got.  Really,  Mollie,  I  don't  won- 
der that  instead  of  settling  down  in  New  York, 
or  Boston,  or  Chicago,  he  went  back  home  again 
to  live.  Nothing  but  Indians !  Well,  well,  well ! " 

And  the  Unwiseman  wandered  moodily  back 
to  his  carpet-bag. 

:<With  so  many  nice  people  living  in  Amer- 
ica," he  sighed,  "it  does  seem  too  bad  that  he 
should  meet  only  Indians  who,  while  they  may 
be  very  good  Indians  indeed,  are  not  noted  for 
the  quality  of  their  manners." 

And  so  the  little  party  passed  over  the  sea,  and 
I  did  not  meet  with  them  again  until  I  reached 
the  pier  at  New  York  and  discovered  the  Un- 
wiseman struggling  with  the  Custom  House 
Inspectors. 


XIV. 

AT   THE    CUSTOM    HOUSE 

"Hi  there — where  are  you  going  with  that 
carpet-bag?"  cried  a  gruff  voice,  as  the  Unwise- 
man  scurried  along  the  pier,  eager  to  get  back 
home  as  speedily  as  possible  after  the  arrival  of 
the  steamer  at  New  York. 

"Where  do  you  suppose  I'm  going?"  retorted 
the  Unwiseman,  pausing  in  his  quick-step  march 
back  to  the  waiting  arms  of  his  kitchen-stove. 
"Doesn't  look  as  if  I  was  walkin'  off  to  sea 
again,  does  it?" 

"Come  back  here  with  that  bag,"  said  the 
man  of  the  gruff  voice,  a  tall  man  with  a  shiny 
black  moustache  and  a  blue  cap  with  gold  trim- 
mings on  his  head. 

"What,  me?"  demanded  the  Unwiseman. 

"Yes,  you,"  said  the  man  roughly.  "What 
business  have  you  skipping  out  like  that  with 
a  carpet-bag  as  big  as  a  house  under  your 
arm?" 

"It's   my  bag — who's   got   a   better   right?" 


THE    UNWISEMAN    LOOKED    THE    OFFICIAL    COLDLY    IN    THE    EYE 


AT  THE  CUSTOM  HOUSE 

retorted  the  Unwiseman.  "I  bought  and  paid 
for  it  with  my  own  money,  so  why  shouldn't  I 
walk  off  with  it?" 

"Has  it  been  inspected?"  demanded  the 
official. 

"It  don't  need  to  be — there  ain't  any  germans 
in  it,"  said  the  Unwiseman. 

"Germans?"  laughed  the  official. 

"Yes — Mike  robes — you  know "  continued 

the  Unwiseman. 

"O,  you  mean  germs,"  said  the  official. 
"  Well,  I  didn't  say  disinfected.  I  said  inspected. 
You  can't  lug  a  bag  like  that  in  through  here 
without  having  it  examined,  you  know.  What 
you  got  in  it?" 

The  Unwiseman  placed  his  bag  on  the  floor 
of  the  pier  and  sat  on  it  and  looked  the  other 
coldly  in  the  eye. 

"Who  are  you  anyhow?"  he  asked.  "What 
right  have  you  to  ask  me  such  impident  ques- 
tions as,  What  have  I  got  in  this  bag?" 

"Well  in  private  life  my  name's  Maginnis," 
said  the  official,  "but  down  here  on  this  dock  I'm 
Uncle  Sam,  otherwise  the  United  States  of  Amer- 
ica, that's  who." 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

The  Unwiseman  threw  his  head  back  and 
roared  with  laughter. 

"I  do  not  mean  to  be  rude,  my  dear  Mr. 
Maginnis,"  he  said,  "but  I  really  must  say  Tutt, 
Tush,  Pshaw  and  Pooh.  I  may  even  go  so  far 
as  to  say  Pooh-pooh — which  is  twice  as  scornful 
as  just  plain  pooh.  You  Uncle  Sam?  You 
must  think  I'm  as  green  as  apples  if  you  think 
I'll  believe  that." 

"It  is  true  nevertheless,"  said  the  official 
sternly,  "and  unless  you  hand  over  that  bag  at 
once " 

"Well  I  know  better,"  said  the  Unwiseman 
angrily.  "Uncle  Sam  has  a  red  goatee  and 
you've  got  nothing  but  a  shiny  black  moustache 
that  looks  like  a  pair  of  comic  eyebrows  that 
have  slipped  and  slid  down  over  your  nose. 
Uncle  Sam  wears  a  blue  swallow-tail  coat  with 
brass  buttons  on  it,  and  a  pair  of  red  and  white 
striped  trousers  like  a  peppermint  stick,  and 
you've  got  nothin'  but  an  old  pea-jacket  and 
blue  flannel  pants  on,  and  as  for  the  hat,  Uncle 
Sam  wears  a  yellow  beaver  with  fur  on  it  like  a 
coon-cat,  while  that  thing  of  yours  looks  like  a 
last  summer's  yachtin'  cap  spruced  up  with 

230 


AT  THE  CUSTOM  HOUSE 

brass.  You're  a  very  smart  man,  Mr.  Maginnis, 
but  you  can't  fool  an  old  traveller  like  me.  I've 
been  to  Europe,  I  have,  and  I  guess  I  know  the 
difference  between  a  fire-engine  and  a  clothes 
horse.  Uncle  Sam  indeed!" 

"I  must  inspect  the  contents  of  that  bag," 
said  the  official  firmly.  "If  you  resist  it  will  be 
confiscated." 

"I  don't  know  what  confiscated  means,"  re- 
turned the  Unwiseman  valiantly,  "but  any  man 
who  goes  through  this  bag  of  mine  goes  through 
me  first.  I'm  sittin'  on  the  lock,  Mr.  Maginnis, 
and  I  don't  intend  to  move — no,  not  if  you  try 
to  blast  me  away.  A  man's  carpet-bag  is  his 
castle  and  don't  you  forget  it." 

"What's  the  matter  here?"  demanded  a 
policeman,  who  had  overheard  the  last  part  of 
this  little  quarrel. 

"Nothing  much,"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "This 
gentleman  here  in  the  messenger  boy's  clothes 
says  he's  the  President  o'  the  United  States, 
Congress,  the  Supreme  Court,  and  the  Army  and 
Navy,  all  rolled  into  one,  thinking  that  by  so 
doing  he  can  get  hold  of  my  carpet-bag.  That's 
all.  Anybody  can  see  by  lookin'  at  him  that  he 

231 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

ain't  even  the  Department  of  Agriculture.  The 
United  States  Government!  Really  it  makes 
me  laugh." 

Here  the  Unwiseman  grinned  broadly,  and 
the  Policeman  and  the  official  joined  in. 

"He's  a  new  kind  of  a  smuggler,  officer,"  said 
Mr.  Maginnis,  "or  at  least  he  acts  like  one.  I 
caught  him  trotting  off  with  that  bag  under  his 
arm,  and  he  refuses  to  let  me  inspect  it." 

"I  ain't  a  smuggler!"  retorted  the  Unwiseman 
indignantly. 

'You'll  have  to  let  him  look  through  the  bag, 
Mister,"  said  the  Policeman.  "He's  a  Custom 
House  Inspector  and  nobody's  allowed  to  take 
in  baggage  of  any  sort  that  hasn't  been  inspected. 

"Is  that  the  law?"  asked  the  Unwiseman. 

'Yep,"  said  the  Policeman. 

"What's  the  idea  of  it?"  demanded  the  Un- 
wiseman. 

"Well  the  United  States  Government  makes 
people  pay  a  tax  on  things  that  are  made  on  the 
other  side,"  explained  the  Inspector.  "That's 
the  way  they  make  the  money  to  pay  the  Presi- 
dent's salary  and  the  other  running  expenses  of 
the  Government." 


AT  THE  CUSTOM  HOUSE 

"Oh — that's  it,  eh?"  said  the  Unwiseman. 
"Well  you'd  ought  to  have  told  me  that  in  the 
beginning.  I  didn't  know  the  Government 
needed  money  to  pay  the  President.  I  thought 
all  it  had  to  do  was  to  print  all  it  needed.  Of 
course  if  the  President's  got  to  go  without  his 
money  unless  I  help  pay,  I'll  be  only  too  glad  to 
do  all  I  can  to  make  up  the  amount  you're  short. 
He  earns  every  penny  of  it,  and  it  isn't  fair  to 
make  him  wait  for  it.  About  how  much  do  you 
need  to  even  it  up  ?  I've  only  got  four  dollars 
left  and  I'm  afraid  I'll  have  to  use  a  little  of  it 
myself,  but  what's  left  over  you're  welcome  to, 
only  I'd  like  the  President  to  know  I  chipped  in. 
How  much  does  he  get  anyhow?" 

"  Seventy- five  thousand  dollars,"  said  the  In- 
spector. 

"And  there  are  80,000,000  people  in  the  coun- 
try, ain't  there?"  asked  the  Unwiseman. 

"About  that?"  said  the  Inspector. 

"So  that  really  my  share  comes  to — say  four 
and  a  quarter  thousandths  of  a  cent — that  it  ?  "de- 
manded the  Unwiseman. 

"Something  like  that,"  laughed  the  Inspector. 

"Well  then,"  said  the  Unwiseman,  taking  a 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

copper  coin  from  his  pocket,  "here's  a  cent. 
Can  you  change  it?" 

"We  don't  do  business  that  way,"  said  the 
Inspector  impatiently.  :<We  examine  your  bag- 
gage and  tax  that — that's  all.  If  you  refuse  to 
let  us,  we  confiscate  the  bag,  and  fine  you  any- 
where from  $100  to  $5000.  Now  what  are  you 
going  to  do?" 

"What  he  says  is  true,"  said  the  Policeman, 
"and  I'd  advise  you  to  save  trouble  by  opening 
up  the  bag." 

"O  well  of  course  if  you  say  so  I'll  do  it,  but 
I  think  it's  mighty  funny  just  the  same,"  said  the 
Unwiseman,  rising  from  the  carpet-bag  and 
handing  it  over  to  the  Inspector.  "In  the  first 
place  it's  not  polite  for  an  entire  stranger  to  go 
snooping  through  a  gentleman's  carpet-bag. 
In  the  second  place  if  the  Secretary  of  the  Treas- 
ury hasn't  got  enough  money  on  hand  when 
pay-day  comes  around  he  ought  to  state  the  fact 
in  the  newspapers  so  we  citizens  can  hustle 
around  and  raise  it  for  him  instead  of  being  held 
up  for  it  like  a  highwayman,  and  in  the  third 
place  it's  very  extravagant  to  employ  a  man  like 
Mr.  Maginnis  here  for  three  dollars  a  week  or 

234 


AT  THE  CUSTOM  HOUSE 

whatever  he  gets,  just  to  collect  four  and  a  quar- 
ter thousandths  of  a  cent.  I  don't  wonder  there 
ain't  any  money  in  the  treasury  if  that's  the  way 
the  Government  does  business." 

So  the  inspection  of  the  Unwiseman's  carpet 
bag  began.  The  first  thing  the  Inspector  found 
upon  opening  that  wonderful  receptacle  was 
"French  in  Five  Lessons." 

"What's  that?"  he  asked. 

"  That's  a  book,"  replied  the  Unwiseman.  "  It 
teaches  you  how  to  talk  French  in  five  easy  les- 


sons." 


"What  did  you  pay  for  it?"  asked  the  In- 
spector. 

"I  didn't  pay  anything  for  it,"  said  the  Un- 
wiseman. "I  found  it." 

"What  do  you  think  it's  worth?"  queried  the 
Inspector. 

"Nothing,"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "That  is, 
all  the  French  I  got  out  of  it  came  to  about  that. 
It  may  have  been  first  class  looking  French,  but 
when  I  came  to  use  it  on  French  people  they 
didn't  seem  to  recognize  it,  and  it  had  a  habit  of 
fading  away  and  getting  lost  altogether,  so  as 
far  as  I'm  concerned  it  ain't  worth  paying  duty 

235 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

on.  If  you're  going  to  tax  me  for  that  you  can 
confisticate  it  and  throw  it  at  the  first  cat  you 
want  to  scare  off  your  back-yard  fence." 

"What's  this?"  asked  the  Inspector,  taking 
a  small  tin  box  out  of  the  bag. 

"Ginger-snaps,  two  bananas  and  an  eclair," 
said  the  Unwiseman.  "I  shan't  pay  any  duty 
on  them  because  I  took  'em  away  with  me 
when  I  left  home." 

"I  don't  know  whether  I  can  let  them  in 
duty-free  or  not,"  said  the  Inspector,  with  a  wink 
at  the  Policeman. 

"Well  I'll  settle  that  in  a  minute,"  said  the 
Unwiseman,  and  reaching  out  for  the  tin-box 
in  less  than  two  minutes  he  had  eaten  its  con- 
tents. "You  can't  tax  what  ain't,  can  you?" 
he  asked. 

"Of  course  not,"  said  the  Inspector. 

"Well  then  those  ginger-snaps  ain't,  and  the 
bananas  ain't  and  the  eclair  ain't,  so  there  you 
are,"  said  the  Unwiseman  triumphantly.  "Go 
on  with  your  search,  Uncle  Sammy.  You 
haven't  got  much  towards  the  President's  salary 
yet,  have  you!" 

The  Inspector   scorned  to  reply,   and  after 

236 


AT  THE  CUSTOM  HOUSE 

rummaging  about  in  the  bag  for  a  few  moments, 
he  produced  a  small  box  of  macaroni. 

"I  guess  we'll  tax  you  on  this,"  he  said. 
"What  is  it?" 

"Bait,"  said  the  Unwiseman. 

"I  call  it  macaroni,"  said  the  Inspector. 

"You  can  call  it  what  you  please,"  said  the 
Unwiseman.  "I  call  it  bait — and  it's  no  good. 
I  can  dig  better  bait  than  all  the  macaroni  in 
the  world  in  my  back  yard.  I  fish  for  fish  and 
not  for  Eye-talians,  so  I  don't  need  that  kind. 
If  I  can't  keep  it  without  paying  taxes  for  it, 
confisticate  it  and  eat  it  yourself.  I  only  brought 
it  home  as  a  souvenir  of  Genoa  anyhow." 

"  I  don't  want  it,"  said  the  Inspector. 
'Then  give  it  to  the  policeman,"  said  the 
Unwiseman.  "I  tell  you  right  now  I  wouldn't 
pay  five  cents  to  keep  a  piece  of  macaroni  nine 
miles  long.  Be  careful  the  way  you  handle  that 
sailor  suit  of  mine.  I  had  it  pressed  in  London 
and  I  want  to  keep  the  creases  in  the  trousers 
just  right  the  way  the  King  wears  his." 

"Where  did  you  buy  them?"  asked  the 
Inspector,  holding  the  duck  trousers  up  in  the 
air. 

237 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

"Right  here  in  this  town  before  I  stole  on 
board  the  Digestic"  said  the  Unwiseman. 

"American  made,  are  they?"  asked  the 
Inspector. 

'Yes,"  said  the  Unwiseman.  'You  can  tell 
that  by  lookin'  at  'em.  They're  regular  canvas- 
back  ducks  with  the  maker's  name  stamped  on 
the  buttons." 

Closer  inspection  of  the  garment  proved  the 
truth  of  the  Unwiseman' s  assertion  and  the 
Inspector  proceeded. 

"Didn't  you  make  any  purchases  abroad?" 
he  asked.  "Clothes  or  jewels  or  something?" 

"I  didn't  buy  any  clothes  at  all,"  said  the 
Unwiseman.  "I  did  ask  the  price  of  a  Duke's 
suit  and  a  Knight  gown,  but  I  didn't  buy  either 
of  them.  You  don't  have  to  pay  duty  on  a 
request  for  information,  do  you?" 

"  You  are  sure  you  didn't  buy  any  ?"  repeated 
the  Inspector. 

"Quite  sure,"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "A 
slight  misunderstanding  with  the  King  com- 
bined with  a  difference  of  opinion  with  his 
tailor  made  it  unnecessary  for  me  to  lay  in  a 
stock  of  royal  raiment.  And  the  same  thing 

238 


AT  THE  CUSTOM  HOUSE 

prevented  my  buying  any  jewels.  If  I'd  decided 
to  go  into  the  Duke  business  I  probably  should 
have  bought  a  few  diamond  rings  and  a  half  a 
dozen  tararas  to  wear  when  I  took  breakfast 
with  the  roil  family,  but  I  gave  that  all  up  when 
I  made  up  my  mind  to  remain  a  farmer.  Tar- 
aras and  diamond  rings  kind  of  get  in  your  way 
when  you're  pulling  weeds  and  planting  beets, 
so  why  should  I  buy  them?" 

"How  about  other  things  ?"  asked  the  Inspec- 
tor. 'You  say  you've  been  abroad  all  summer 
and  haven't  bought  anything?" 

"I  didn't  say  anything  of  the  sort,"  said  the 
Unwiseman.  "I  bought  a  lot  of  things.  In 
London  I  bought  a  ride  in  a  hansom  cab,  in 
Paris  I  bought  a  ride  in  a  one  horse  fakir,  and 
in  Venice  I  bought  a  ride  in  a  Gandyola.  I 
bought  a  large  number  of  tarts  and  plates  of  ice 
cream  in  various  places.  I  bought  a  couple  of 
souvenir  postal  cards  to  send  to  Columbus's 
little  boy.  In  Switzerland  I  didn't  buy  any- 
thing because  the  things  I  wanted  weren't  for 
sale  such  as  pet  shammys  and  Alps  and  Glaziers 
and  things  like  that.  There's  only  two  things 
that  I  can  remember  that  maybe  ought  to  be 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

taxed.  One  of  'em's  an  air  gun  to  shoot  alps 
with  and  the  others  a  big  alpen-stock  engraved 
with  a  red  hot  iron  showing  what  mountains  I 
didn't  climb.  The  Alpen-stock  I  used  as  a  fish 
pole  in  Venice  and  lost  it  because  my  hook  got 
stuck  in  an  artist's  straw  hat,  but  the  air  gun 
I  brought  home  with  me.  You  can  tax  it  if 
you  want  to,  but  I  warn  you  if  you  do  I'll  give 
it  to  you  and  then  you'll  have  to  pay  the  tax 
yourself." 

Having  delivered  himself  of  this  long  har- 
angue, the  Unwiscman,  quite  out  of  breath,  sat 
down  on  Mollie's  trunk  and  waited  for  new 
developments.  The  Inspector  apparently  did 
not  hear  him,  or  if  he  did  paid  no  attention. 
The  chances  are  that  the  Unwiseman's  words 
never  reached  his  ears,  for  to  tell  the  truth  his 
head  was  hidden  way  down  deep  in  the  carpet- 
bag. It  was  all  of  three  minutes  before  he  spoke, 
and  then  with  his  face  all  red  with  the  work  he 
drew  his  head  from  the  bag  and,  gasping  for  air 
observed,  wonderingly: 

"I  can't  find  anything  else  but  a  lot  of  old 
bottles  in  there.  What  business  are  you  in 
anyhow?"  he  asked.  "Bottles  and  rags?" 

240 


AT  THE  CUSTOM  HOUSE 

"I  am  a  collector,"  said  the  Unwiseman,  with 
a  great  deal  of  dignity. 

"Well — after  all  I  guess  we'll  have  to  let  you 
in  free,"  said  the  Inspector,  closing  the  bag  with 
a  snap  and  scribbling  a  little  mark  on  it  with 
a  piece  of  chalk  to  show  that  it  had  been 
examined.  "The  Government  hasn't  put  any 
tax  on  old  bottles  and  junk  generally  so  you're 
all  right.  If  all  importers  were  like  you  the 
United  States  would  have  to  go  out  of  busi- 


ness." 


"Junk  indeed!"  cried  the  Unwiseman,  jump- 
ing up  wrathfully.  "If  you  call  my  bottles  junk 
I'd  like  to  know  what  you'd  say  to  the  British 
Museum.  That's  a  scrap  heap,  alongside  of 
this  collection  of  mine,  and  I  don't  want  you  to 
forget  it!" 

And  gathering  his  belongings  together  the 
Unwiseman  in  high  dudgeon  walked  off  the 
pier  while  the  Inspector  and  the  Policeman 
watched  him  go  with  smiles  on  their  faces  so 
broad  that  if  they'd  been  half  an  inch  broader 
they  would  have  met  behind  their  necks  and 
cut  their  heads  off. 

"I  never  was  so  insulted  in  my  life,"  said  the 

16  241 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

Unwiseman,  as  he  told  Mollie  about  it  in  the 
carriage  going  up  to  the  train  that  was  to  take 
them  back  home.  "He  called  that  magnificent 
collection  of  mine  junk." 

"What  was  there  in  it?"  asked  Mollie. 

"Wait  until  we  get  home  and  I'll  show  you," 
said  the  Unwiseman.  "  It's  the  finest  collection 
of — well  just  wait  and  see.  I'm  going  to  start 
a  Museum  up  in  my  house  that  will  make  that 
British  Museum  look  like  cinder  in  a  giant's  eye. 
How  did  you  get  through  the  Custom  House?" 

"Very  nicely,"  said  Mollie.  "The  man 
wanted  me  to  pay  duty  on  Whistlebinkie  at 
first,  because  he  thought  he  was  made  in  Ger- 
many, but  when  he  heard  him  squeak  he  let 
him  in  free." 

"I  should  think  so,"  said  the  Unwiseman. 
"There's  no  German  in  his  squeak.  He  couldn't 
get  a  medium  sized  German  word  through  his 
hat.  If  he  could  I  think  he'd  drive  me  crazy. 
Just  open  the  window  will  you  while  I  send  this 
wireless  message  to  the  President." 

"To  the  President?"  cried  Mollie. 

"Yes — I  want  him  to  know  I'm  home  in  the 
first  place,  and  in  the  second  place  I  want  to 


AT  THE  CUSTOM  HOUSE 

tell  him  that  the  next  time  he  wants  to  collect 
his  salary  from  me,  I'll  take  it  as  a  personal 
favor  if  he'll  come  himself  and  not  send  Uncle 
Sam  Maginnis  after  it.  I  can  stand  a  good  deal 
for  my  country's  sake  but  when  a  Custom  House 
inspector  prys  into  my  private  affairs  and  then 
calls  them  junk  just  because  the  President  needs 
a  four  and  a  quarter  thousandth  of  a  cent,  it 
makes  me  very,  very  angry.  It's  been  as  much 
as  I  could  do  to  keep  from  saying  'Thunder' 
ever  since  I  landed,  and  that  ain't  the  way  an 
American  citizen  ought  to  feel  when  he  comes 
back  to  his  own  beautiful  land  again  after  three 
months,  absence.  It's  like  celebrating  a  wan- 
derer's return  by  hitting  him  in  the  face  with  a 
boot-jack,  and  I  don't  like  it." 

The  window  was  opened  and  with  much 
deliberation  the  Unwiseman  despatched  his 
message  to  the  President,  announcing  his  return 
and  protesting  against  the  tyrannous  behavior 
of  Mr.  Maginnis,  the  Custom  House  Inspector, 
after  which  the  little  party  continued  on  their 
way  until  they  reached  their  native  town.  Here 
they  separated,  Mollie  and  Whistlebinkie  going 
to  their  home  and  the  Unwiseman  to  the  queer 

243 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

little  house  that  he  had  left  in  charge  of  the 
burglar  at  the  beginning  of  the  summer. 

"If  I  ever  go  abroad  again,"  said  the  Unwise- 
inan  at  parting,  "which  I  never  ain't  going  to 
do,  I'll  bring  a  big  Bengal  tiger  back  in  my  bag 
that  ain't  been  fed  for  seven  weeks,  and  then 
we'll  have  some  fun  when  Maginnis  opens  the 
bag!" 


XV. 

HOME,    SWEET    HOME 

"  HURRY  up  and  finish  your  breakfast, 
Whistlebinkie/'  said  Mollie  the  next  morning 
after  their  return  from  abroad.  "I  want  to  run 
around  to  the  Unwiseman's  House  and  see  if 
everything  is  all  right.  I'm  just  crazy  to  know 
how  the  burglar  left  the  house." 

"I  -  mall  -  ready,"  whistled  Whistlebinkie. 
"  I-y  ain't-  very-ungry." 

"Lost  your  appetite?"  asked  Mollie  eyeing 
him  anxiously,  for  she  was  a  motherly  little  girl 
and  took  excellent  care  of  all  her  playthings. 

"Yep,"  said  Whistlebinkie.  "I  always  do 
lose  my  appetite  after  eating  three  plates  of 
oat-meal,  four  chops,  five  rolls,  six  buckwheat 
cakes  and  a  couple  of  bananas. 

"Mercy!  How  do  you  hold  it  all,  Whistle- 
binkie?" said  Mollie. 

"Oh — I'm  made  o'rubber  and  my  stummick 
is  very  'lastic,"  explained  Whistlebinkie. 

So  hand  in  hand   the  little  couple  made  off 

245 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

down  the  road  to  the  pleasant  spot  where  the 
Unwiseman's  house  stood,  and  there  in  the  front 
yard  was  the  old  gentleman  himself  talking  to 
his  beloved  boulder,  and  patting  it  gently  as  he 
did  so. 

"I'm  never  going  to  leave  you  again,  Boldy," 
he  was  saying  to  the  rock  as  Mollie  and  Whistle- 
binkie  came  up.  "It  is  true  that  the  Rock  of 
Gibraltar  is  bigger  and  broader  and  more  terri- 
ble to  look  at  than  you  are  but  when  it  comes 
right  down  to  business  it  isn't  any  harder  or  to 
my  eyes  any  prettier.  You  are  still  my  favorite 
rock,  Boldy  dear,  so  you  needn't  be  jealous." 
And  the  old  gentleman  bent  over  and  kissed  the 
boulder  softly. 

"Good  morning,"  said  Mollie,  leaning  over 
the  fence.  "  Whistlebinkie  and  I  have  come 
down  to  see  if  everything  is  all  right.  I  hope 
the  kitchen-stove  is  well?" 

"Well  the  house  is  here,  and  all  the  bric-a- 
brac,  and  the  leak  has  grown  a  bit  upon  the 
ceiling,  and  the  kitchen-stove  is  all  right  thank 
you,  but  I'm  afraid  that  old  burgular  has  run 
off  with  my  umbrella,"  said  the  Unwiseman. 
"I  can't  find  a  trace  of  it  anywhere." 

246 


IM    NEVER   GOING   TO    LEAVE    YOU    AGAIN,    BOLDY,       HE   WAS    SAYING 


HOME,  SWEET  HOME 

"You  don't  really  think  he  has  stolen  it  do 
you?"  asked  Mollie. 

"I  don't  know  what  to  think,"  said  the  Un- 
wiseman,  shaking  his  head  gravely.  "He  had 
first  class  references,  that  burgular  had,  and 
claimed  to  have  done  all  the  burguling  for  the 
very  nicest  people  in  the  country  for  the  last 
two  years,  but  these  are  the  facts.  He's  gone 
and  the  umbrella's  gone  too.  I  suppose  in  the 
burgular's  trade  like  in  everything  else  you  some 
times  run  across  one  who  isn't  as  honest  as  he 
ought  to  be.  Occasionally  you'll  find  a  burgular 
who'll  take  things  that  don't  belong  to  him  and 
it  may  be  that  this  fellow  that  took  my  house 
was  one  of  that  kind — but  you  never  can  tell. 
It  isn't  fair  to  judge  a  man  by  disappearances, 
and  it  is  just  possible  that  the  umbrella  got 
away  from  him  in  a  heavy  storm.  It  was  a 
skittish  sort  of  a  creature  anyhow  and  sometimes 
I've  had  all  I  could  do  in  windy  weather  to  keep 
it  from  running  away  myself.  What  do  you 
think  of  my  sign?" 

"I  don't  see  any  sign,"  said  Mollie,  looking 
all  around  in  search  of  the  object.  "Where 
is  it?" 

247 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

"O  I  forgot,"  laughed  the  old  gentleman 
gaily.  "It's  around  on  the  other  side  of  the 
house — come  on  around  and  see  it." 

The  callers  walked  quickly  around  to  the  rear 
of  the  TJnwiseman's  house,  and  there,  hanging 
over  the  kitchen  door,  was  a  long  piece  of  board 
upon  which  the  Unwiseman  had  painted  in 
very  crooked  black  letters  the  following  words: 

THE  BRITISH  MUSEUM  JUNIOR 
Admishun  ten  cents.  Exit  fifteen  cents. 

Burgulars  one  umbrella. 
THE  FINEST  COLECTION  OF  ALPS  AND  SOFORTHS 

ON  EARTH. 
CHILDREN  AND  RUBER  DOLLS  FREE  ON  SATIDYS. 

"Dear  me — how  interesting,"  said  Mollie,  as 
she  read  this  remarkable  legend,  "but — what 
does  it  mean?" 

"It  means  that  I've  started  a  British  Museum 
over  here,"  said  the  Unwiseman,  "only  mine  is 
going  to  be  useful,  instead  of  merely  ornamental 
like  that  one  over  in  London.  For  twenty-five 
cents  a  man  can  get  a  whole  European  trip  in 
my  Museum  without  getting  on  board  of  a 
steamer.  I  only  charge  ten  cents  to  come  in  so 

248 


HOME,  SWEET  HOME 

as  to  get  people  to  come,  and  I  charge  fifteen 
cents  to  get  out  so  as  to  make  'em  stay  until 
they  have  seen  all  there  is  to  be  seen.  People 
get  awfully  tired  travelling  abroad,  I  find,  and 
if  you  make  it  too  easy  for  them  to  run  back  home 
they'll  go  without  finishing  their  trip.  I  charge 
burgulars  one  umbrella  to  get  in  so  that  if  my 
burgular  comes  back  he'll  have  to  make  good 
my  loss,  or  stay  out. " 

"Why  do  you  let  children  and  rubber  dolls  in 
free?"  asked  Mollie,  reading  the  sign  over  a 
second  time. 

"  I  wrote  that  rule  to  cover  you  and  old  Squiz- 
zledinkie  here,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  with  a 
kindly  smile  at  his  little  guests.  "Although  it 
really  wasn't  necessary  because  I  don't  charge 
any  admission  to  people  who  come  in  the  front 
door  and  you  could  always  come  in  that  way. 
That's  the  entrance  to  my  home.  The  back- 
door I  charge  for  because  it's  the  entrance  to 
my  museum,  don't  you  see?" 

"Clear  as  a  blue  china  alley,"  said  Whistle- 
binkie. 

"Come  in  and  see  the  exhibit,"  said  the 
Unwiseman  proudly. 

249 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

And  then  as  Mollie  and  Whistlebinkie  entered 
the  house  their  eyes  fell  upon  what  was  indeed 
the  most  marvellous  collection  of  interesting 
objects  they  had  ever  seen.  All  about  the  parlor 
were  ranged  row  upon  row  of  bottles,  large  and 
small,  each  bearing  a  label  describing  its  con- 
tents, with  here  and  there  mysterious  boxes,  and 
broken  tumblers  and  all  sorts  of  other  odd  things 
that  the  Unwiseman  had  brought  home  in  his 
carpet-bag. 

"Bottle  number  one,"  said  he,  pointing  to 
the  object  with  a  cane,  "  is  filled  with  Atlantic 
Ocean — real  genuine  briny  deep — bottled  it  my- 
self and  so  I  know  there's  nothing  bogus  about 
it.  Number  two  which  looks  empty,  but  really 
ain't,  is  full  of  air  from  the  coast  of  Ireland, 
caught  three  miles  out  from  Queenstown  by 
yours  trooly,  Mr.  Me.  Number  three,  full  of 
dust  and  small  pebbles,  is  genuine  British  soil 
gathered  in  London  the  day  they  put  me  out  of 
the  Museum.  'Tain't  much  to  look  at,  is  it?" 
he  added. 

"Nothin*  extra,"  said  Whistlebinkie,  inspect- 
ing it  with  a  critical  air  after  the  manner  of  one 
who  was  an  expert  in  soils. 

250 


HOME,  SWEET  HOME 

"Not  compared  to  American  soil  anyhow," 
said  the  Unwiseman.  "This  hard  cake  in  the 
tin  box  is  a  'Muffin  by  Special  Appointment  to 
the  King*  '  he  went  on  with  a  broad  grin.  "I 
went  in  and  bought  one  after  we  had  our  rumpus 
in  the  bakeshop,  just  for  the  purpose  of  bring- 
ing it  over  here  and  showing  the  American  people 
how  vain  and  empty  roilty  has  become.  It  is 
not  a  noble  looking  object  to  my  eyes." 

"Mine  neither,"  whistled  Whistlebinkie.  "It 
looks  rather  stale." 

"Yes,"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "And  that's 
the  only  roil  thing  about  it.  Passing  along 
rapidly  we  come  soon  to  a  bottleful  of  the 
British  Channel,"  he  resumed.  "In  order  to 
get  the  full  effect  of  that  very  conceited  body 
of  water  you  want  to  shake  it  violently.  That 
gives  you  some  idea  of  how  the  water  works. 
It's  tame  enough  now  that  I've  got  it  bottled 
but  in  its  native  lair  it  is  fierce.  You  will  see 
the  instructions  on  the  bottle." 

Sure  enough  the  bottle  was  labeled  as  the 
Unwiseman  said  with  full  instructions  as  to 
how  it  must  be  used. 

"Shake  for  fifteen  minutes  until  it  is  all  roiled 

251 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

up  and  swells  around  inside  the  bottle  like  a 
tidal  wave,"  the  instructions  read.  "You  will 
then  get  a  small  idea  of  how  this  disagreeable 
body  of  water  behaves  itself  in  the  presence  of 
trusting  strangers." 

"Here  is  my  bottle  of  French  soil,"  said  the 
Unwiseman,  passing  on  to  the  next  object. 
"It  doesn't  look  very  different  from  English 
soil  but  it's  French  all  right,  as  you  would  see 
for  yourself  if  it  tried  to  talk.  I  scooped  it  up 
myself  in  Paris.  There's  the  book — French  in 
Five  Lessons — too.  That  I  call  'The  French 
Language,'  which  shows  people  who  visit  this 
museum  what  a  funny  tongue  it  is.  That  pill 
box  full  of  sand  is  a  part  of  the  Swiss  frontier 
and  the  small  piece  of  gravel  next  to  it  is  a 
piece  of  an  Alp  chipped  off  Mount  Blanc  by 
myself,  so  that  I  know  it  is  genuine.  It  will 
give  the  man  who  has  never  visited  Swaz — well 
—that  country,  a  small  idea  of  what  an  Alp 
looks  like  and  will  correct  the  notion  in  some 
people's  minds  that  an  Alp  is  a  wild  animal 
with  a  long  hairy  tail  and  the  manners  of  a  lion. 
The  next  two  bottles  contain  all  that  is  left  of 
a  snow-ball  I  gathered  in  at  Chamouny,  and  a 

252 


HOME,  SWEET  HOME 

chip  of  the  Mer  de  Glace  glazier.  They've 
both  melted  since  I  bottled  them,  but  I'll  have 
them  frozen  up  again  all  right  when  winter 
comes,  so  there's  no  harm  done." 

"What's  this  piece  of  broken  china  on  the 
table?"  asked  Mollie. 

"That  is  a  fragment  of  a  Parisian  butter 
saucer,"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "One  of  the 
waiters  fell  down  stairs  with  somebody's  break- 
fast at  our  hotel  in  Paris  one  morning  while  we 
were  there,"  he  explained,  "and  I  rescued  that 
from  the  debris.  It  is  a  perfect  specimen  of  a 
broken  French  butter  dish." 

"I  don't  think  it's  very  interesting,"  said 
Mollie. 

"Well  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  don't  either, 
but  you've  got  to  remember,  my  dear,  that  this 
is  a  British  Museum  and  the  one  over  in  London 
is  chuck  full  of  broken  china,  old  butter  plates 
and  coffee  cups  from  all  over  everywhere,  and 
I  don't  want  people  who  care  for  that  sort  of 
thing  to  be  disappointed  with  my  museum  when 
they  come  here.  Take  that  plaster  statue  of 
Cupid  that  I  bought  in  Venice — I  only  got  that 
to  please  people  who  care  for  statuary." 

253 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

"Where  is  it?"  asked  Mollie,  searching  the 
room  with  her  eye  for  the  Cupid. 

"I've  spread  it  out  through  the  Museum  so 
as  to  make  it  look  more  like  a  collection,"  said 
the  Unwiseman.  "I  got  a  tack-hammer  as  soon 
as  I  got  home  last  night  and  fixed  it  up.  There's 
an  arm  over  on  the  mantel-piece.  His  chest 
and  left  leg  are  there  on  top  of  the  piano,  while 
his  other  arm  with  his  left  ear  and  right  leg 
are  in  the  kitchen.  I  haven't  found  places 
for  his  stummick  and  what's  left  of  his  head 
yet,  but  I  will  before  the  crowd  begins  to 


arrive." 


"Why  Mr.  Me!"  protested  Mollie,  as  she 
gazed  mournfully  upon  the  scraps  of  the  broken 
Cupid.  "You  didn't  really  smash  up  that  pretty 
little  statue?" 

"I'm  afraid  I  did,  Mollie,"  said  the  Unwise- 
man sadly.  "I  hated  to  do  it,  but  this  is  a 
Museum  my  dear,  and  when  you  go  into  the 
museum  business  you've  to  do  it  according  to 
the  rules.  One  of  the  rules  seems  to  be  'No 
admission  to  Unbusted  Statuary, '  and  I've  acted 
accordingly.  I  don't  want  to  deceive  anybody 
and  if  I  gave  even  to  my  kitchen-stove  the  idea 


254 


HOME,  SWEET  HOME 

that  these  first  class  museums  over  in  Europe 
have  anything  but  fractures  in  them " 

"Fragments,    isn't     it?"    suggested    Mollie. 

"It's  all  the  same,"  said  the  Unwiseman. 
"Fractures  or  fragments,  there  isn't  a  complete 
statue  anywhere  in  any  museum  that  I  ever  saw, 
and  in  educating  rny  kitchen-stove  in  Art  I'm 
going  to  follow  the  lead  of  the  experts." 

"Well  I  don't  see  the  use  of  it,"  sighed  Mollie, 
for  she  had  admired  the  pretty  little  plaster 
Cupid  very  much  indeed. 

"No  more  do  I,  Mollie  dear,"  said  the  Un- 
wiseman, "but  rules  are  rules  and  we've  got  to 
obey  them.  This  is  the  Grand  Canal  at  Venice," 
he  added  holding  up  a  bottle  full  of  dark  green 
water  in  order  to  change  the  subject.  "And 
here  is  what  I  call  a  Hoople-fish  from  the  Adri- 

,  •         99 

atic. 

"What  on  earth  is  a  Hoople-fish?"  cried 
Mollie  with  a  roar  of  laughter  as  she  gazed  upon 
the  object  to  which  the  Unwiseman  referred,  an 
old  water  soaked  strip  of  shingley  wood. 

"It  is  the  barrel  hoop  I  caught  that  day  I 
went  fishing  from  the  hotel  balcony,"  explained 
the  Unwiseman.  "I  wish  I'd  kept  the  artist's 

255 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

straw  hat  I  landed  at  the  same  time  for  a  Hat- 
fish  to  complete  my  collection  of  Strange  Shad 
From  Venice,  but  of  course  that  was  impossible. 
The  artist  seemed  to  want  it  himself  and  as  he 
had  first  claim  to  it  I  didn't  press  the  matter. 
The  barrel-hoop  will  serve  however  to  warn 
Americans  who  want  to  go  salmon  fishing  on  the 
Grand  Canal  just  what  kind  of  queer  things 
they'll  catch  if  they  have  any  luck  at  all." 

"What's  this?"  asked  Whistlebinkie,  peering 
into  a  little  tin  pepper  pot  that  appeared  to  con- 
tain nothing  but  sand. 

"You  must  handle  that  very  carefully,"  said 
the  TJnwiseman,  taking  it  in  one  hand,  and  shak- 
ing some  of  the  sand  out  of  it  into  the  palm  of  the 
other.  "That  is  the  birth-place  of  Christopher 
Columbus,  otherwise  the  soil  of  Genoa.  I 
brought  home  about  a  pail-ful  of  it,  and  I'm 
going  to  have  it  put  up  in  forty-seven  little  bottles 
to  send  around  to  people  that  would  appreciate 
having  it.  One  of  'em  is  to  go  to  the  President 
to  be  kept  on  the  White  House  mantel-piece  in 
memory  of  Columbus,  and  the  rest  of  them  I 
shall  distribute  to  the  biggest  Museums  in  each 
one  of  the  United  States.  I  don't  think  any  State 

256 


HOME,  SWEET  HOME 

in  the  Union  should  be  without  a  bottle  of  Colum- 
bus birth-place,  in  view  of  all  that  he  did  for  this 
country  by  discovering  it.  There  wouldn't  have 
been  any  States  at  all  of  it  hadn't  been  for  him, 
and  it  strikes  me  that  is  a  very  simple  and  touch- 
ing way  of  showing  our  gratitude." 

"Perfectly  fine!"  cried  Mollie  enthusiastically. 
"I  don't  believe  there's  another  collection  like 
this  anywhere  in  all  the  world,  do  you?" 
she  added,  sweeping  the  room  with  an  eye 
full  of  wondering  admiration  for  the  genius 
that  had  gathered  all  these  marvellous  things 
together. 

"No — I  really  don't,"  said  the  Unwiseman. 
"And  just  think  what  a  fine  thing  it  will  be  for 
people  who  can't  afford  to  travel,"  he  went  on. 
"For  twenty-five  cents  they  can  come  here  and 
see  everything  we  saw — except  a  few  bogus  kings 
and  things  like  that  that  ain't  really  worth  seeing 
—from  the  French  language  down  to  the  Vene- 
tian Hoople-fish,  from  an  Alp  and  a  Glazier  to  a 
Specially  Appointed  Muffin  to  the  King  and  Col- 
umbus's  birth-place.  I  really  think  I  shall  have 
to  advertise  it  in  the  newspapers.  A  Trip  Abroad 
Without  Leaving  Home,  All  for  a  Quarter,  at 

17  257 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

the  Unwiseman's  Museum.     Alps  a  Specialty." 

"Here's  a  couple  of  empty  bottles,"  said  Whis- 
tlebinkie,  who  had  been  snooping  curiously  about 
the  room. 

"Yes,"  said  the  Unwiseman.  "I've  more 
than  that.  I'm  sorry  to  say  that  some  of  my 
exhibits  have  faded  away.  The  first  one  was 
filled  with  London  fog,  and  as  you  remember  I 
lost  that  when  the  cork  flew  out  the  day  they 
dejected  me  from  the  British  Museum.  That 
other  bottle  when  I  put  the  cork  in  it  contained 
a  view  of  Gibraltar  and  the  African  Coast 
through  the  port-hole  of  the  steamer,  but  it's  all 
faded  out,  just  as  the  bird's-eye  view  of  the  hori- 
zon out  in  the  middle  of  the  ocean  that  I  had  in 
a  little  pill  bottle  did.  There  are  certain  things 
you  can't  keep  even  in  bottles — but  I  shall  show 
the  Gibraltar  bottle  just  the  same.  A  bottle  of 
that  size  that  once  contained  that  big  piece  of 
rock  and  the  African  Coast  to  boot,  is  a  wonder- 
ful thing  in  itself." 

In  which  belief  Mollie  and  Whistlebinkie 
unanimously  agreed. 

"  Was  the  kitchen-stove  glad  to  see  you  back  ?  " 
asked  Whistlebinkie. 

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HOME,  SWEET  HOME 

"Well — it  didn't  say  very  much,"  said  the 
Unwiseman,  with  an  affectionate  glance  out  into 
the  kitchen,  "but  when  I  filled  it  up  with  coal, 
and  started  the  fire  going,  it  was  more  than  cor- 
dial. Indeed  before  the  evening  was  over  it  got 
so  very  warm  that  I  had  to  open  the  parlor  win- 
dows to  cool  it  off." 

"It's  pretty  nice  to  be  home  again,  isn't  it," 
said  Mollie. 

"Nice?"  echoed  the  old  gentleman.  "I  can 
just  tell  you,  Miss  Mollie  Whistlebinkie,  that 
the  finest  thing  I've  seen  since  I  left  home,  finer 
than  all  the  oceans  in  the  world,  more  beautiful 
than  all  the  Englands  in  creation,  sweeter  than 
all  the  Frances  on  the  map,  lovelier  than  any 
Alp  that  ever  poked  its  nose  against  the  sky, 
dearer  than  all  the  Venices  afloat — the  greatest, 
most  welcome  sight  that  ever  greeted  my  eyes 
was  my  own  brass  front  door  knob  holding  itself 
out  there  in  the  twilight  of  yesterday  to  welcome 
me  home  and  twinkling  in  the  fading  light  of  day 
like  a  house  afire  as  if  to  show  it  was  glad  to  see 
me  back.  That's  why  the  minute  I  came  into 
the  yard  I  took  off  my  hat  and  knelt  down  before 
that  old  brass  knob  and  kissed  it." 

259 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

The  old  man's  voice  shook  just  a  little  as  he 
spoke,  and  a  small  teardrop  gathered  and  glis- 
tened in  a  corner  of  his  eye — but  it  was  a  tear  of 
joy  and  content,  not  of  sorrow. 

"And  then  when  I  turned  the  knob  and  opened 
the  door,"  he  went  on,  "well — talk  about  your 
Palaces  with  all  their  magnificent  shiny  floors 
and  gorgeous  gold  framed  mirrors  and  hall-bed- 
rooms as  big  as  the  Madison  Square  Garden— 
they  couldn't  compare  to  this  old  parlor  of  mine 
with  the  piano  over  on  one  side  of  the  room,  the 
refrigerator  in  the  other,  the  leak  beaming  down 
from  the  ceiling,  and  my  kitchen-stove  peeking  in 
through  the  door  and  sort  of  keeping  an  eye  on 
things  generally.  And  not  a  picture  in  all  that 
9643  miles  of  paint  at  the  Loover  can  hold  a 
candle  to  my  beloved  old  Washington  Crossing 
the  Delaware  over  my  mantel-piece,  with  the 
British  bombarding  him  with  snow-balls  and  the 
river  filled  to  the  brim  with  ice-bergs — no  sirree ! 
And  best  of  all,  nobody  around  to  leave  their 
aitches  all  over  the  place  for  somebody  else  to 
pick  up,  or  any  French  language  to  take  a  pretty 
little  bird  and  turn  it  into  a  wazzoh,  or  to  turn  a 
good  honest  hard  boiled  egg  into  an  oof,  but 

260 


HOME,  SWEET  HOME 

everybody  from  Me  myself  down  to  the  kitchen- 
stove  using  the  good  old  American  language 
whenever  we  have  something  to  say  and  holding 
our  tongues  in  the  same  when  we  haven't." 

"Hooray  for  us!"  cried  Whistlebinkie,  dancing 
with  glee. 

"That's  what  I  say,"  said  the  Unwiseman. 
"America's  good  enough  for  me  and  I'm  glad 
I'm  back." 

"Well  I  feel  the  same  way,"  said  Mollie.  "I 
liked  Europe  very  much  indeed  but  somehow 
or  other  I  like  America  best." 

"And  for  a  very  good  reason,"  said  the  Un- 
wiseman. 

"What?"  asked  Mollie. 

"Because  it's  Home,"  said  the  Unwiseman. 

"I  guess-thassit,"  said  Whistlebinkie. 

"Well  don't  guess  again,  Fizzledinkie,"  said 
the  Unwiseman,  "because  that's  the  answer, 
and  if  you  guessed  again  you  might  get  it  wrong." 

And  so  it  was  that  Mollie  and  the  Unwiseman 
and  Whistlebinkie  finished  their  trip  abroad, 
and  returned  better  pleased  with  Home  than 
they  had  ever  been  before,  which  indeed  is  one 
of  the  greatest  benefits  any  of  us  get  out  of  a  trip 

261 


MOLLIE  AND  THE  UNWISEMAN  ABROAD 

to  Europe,  for  after  all  that  fine  old  poet  was 
right  when  he  said : 

"East  or  West 
Home  is  best.'* 

In  closing  I  think  I  ought  to  say  that  the  Un- 
wiseman's  umbrella  turned  up  in  good  order  the 
next  morning,  and  where  do  you  suppose  ? 

Why  up  on  the  roof  where  the  kind-hearted 
burglar  had  placed  it  to  protect  the  Unwise- 
man's  leak  from  the  rain ! 

So  he  seems  to  have  been  a  pretty  honest  old 
burglar  after  all. 

THE   END. 


